THERE  can  be  no 
hope  of  progress  or 
freedom  for    the 
people  without  the  un- 
restricted and  complete 
enjoyment  of  the  right 
of  free  speech,  free  press 
and  peaceful  assembly. 


Gift  of 
IRA  B.  CR 


GIFT  OF 


IS 


THE 


TELEPHONE  OF  LABOR, 


GEORGE   MARSHALL    SLOAN. 


The  wagon's  creaking  ne'er  will  cease 
While  its  fifth  wheel  gets  all  the  grease. 


CHICAGO. 

1880. 


ENTERED,  ACCORDING  TO  ACT  OF  CONGRESS,  BY 

GEORGE   MARSHALL  SLOAN, 
IN  THE  OFFICE  OF  THE  LIBRARIAN  AT  WASHINGTON. 


DEDICATION. 


For  the  rebel,  a  ruler, — the  exile,  returned, — 

Who  rejected  the  gifts  of  the  despot  he  spurned — 

For  the  Man  of  the  People,  this  tribute  I  frame, 

Who,  sowing  for  Love,  reaped  the  harvest  of  Fame. 

A  King  among  men,  and  a  Man  among  kings, 

In  the  van  of  all  Progress  his  trumpet  voice  rings. 

His  billowy  thoughts,  like  an  angry  sea,  roar 

In    world-sweeping    waves  'gainst    the    turrets   of 

Power, 

Where  the  bandits  are  'fended,  who  ceaselessly  spoil, 
With  Law's  grim  devices,  the  substance  of  Toil. 
No  fortress  Pride  builds  upon  Earth's  shifting  sand, 
To  enforce  his  control  o'er  Man  driven  from  Land, 
But  has  felt  the  fierce  surges  that  turbulent  roll 
With  the  flood-tides  of  Love,  from  his  fathomless 

soul, 

In  seas  phosphorescent  with  luminous  wrath, 
That  reveal  for  Man's  hate  what  they  tear  from  his 

path. 

t 
The  lone  heights  of  Self- Abnegation  he  trod, 

Till  his  lips  touched  the  coals  on  the  altar  of  God — 
Till  they  felt  the  hot  kiss  of  the  Infinite  pour 
The  white  flame  of   Love's  breath  thro'  his  life's 
glowing  core. 

447929 


.4  ••    criee«     .    ,    ''',    Dedication. 


Of  the  mighty  and  cruel,  he  recks  not  the  ban, 
As  he  battles  for  Freedom,  for  Justice,  for  Man ; 
Full-brother  of  Jesus,  he  strives  to  efface 
From  the  brows  of  the  lowly,  the  brand  of  the  base — 
To  lift  from  their  mire  the  depraved  and  obscene, 
While  he  bids  them,  with  Nature,  "  Go !  wash,  and 
be  clean ! " 

Man-lover — whose  heart  for  all  wretchedness  burns — 
Who  feels  all  his  torture,  and  lovingly  yearns 
For  the  thrall  of  despair,  in  his  squalor  and  stench, — 
For  the   galley-slave,    naked,   and   chained   to   his 

bench, 

Till  he  kindles  anew  to  a  generous  flame 
The  embers  of  Manhood,  long  deadened  by  shame ; 
And  Valjean,  re-created  by  love,  is  revealed, 
As  Sympathy  warms  what  by  Hate  was  congealed. 

Who  saw  in  poor  Fanchon  the  virginal  heart — 
When,  betrayed   and  forsaken,  she  brought  to  the 

mart, 

In  the  struggle  for  life,  the  lewd  kiss,  and  embrace, 
While  despair  carved  a  smile  on  her  pitiful  face — 
As  pure  as  Lucrece,  by  affection  defiled ; 
For,  sinless  in  sinning,  she  sinned  for  her  child. 
Aye !  saw  her  glad  spirit,  set  free  from  its  clay, 
Bajihe  in  Mercy's  sweet  spring,  and  don  Heaven's 

array — 

Saw  the  white  robes  that  shimmer  on  souls  of  the  just, 
Grow  more  radiant,  wrapping  the  martyr  of  lust ; 
For,  as  light  in  the  rainbow  resplendent  appears, 
So  the  soul,  when  Love  shines  thro'  the  prism  of  tears. 


Dedication. 


Never  Martyr  rejoiced  with  so  fruited  a  palm  ; 
Never  Monarch  so  conquered,  or  won  such  a  realm ; 
Never  Athlete  so  struggled,  or  Toiler  so  wrought, 
As  he  who,  in  exile,  untiringly  fought, 
Till  the  Empire  of  Bayonets  crumbled  and  fell, 
The  by- word  of  nations,  who  scoffed  at  its  knell ; 
Who  forged  like  a  Vulcan,  like  Jupiter  hurled 
Great  words  that  breed  tempests  to  freshen  the  world. 
From  his  island  Olympus,  whose  thunderbolts  swept 
To  the  claws  of  the  Furies,  the  reptile  who  crept 
Thro'  Treason  to  power,  from  his  blood-defiled  den, 
As  the   sword  that  gashed  France,  fled,  appalled, 
from  his  pen. 

For  the  red-flag  of  Progress,  this  thread  I  have  spun, 
VICTOR  HUGO,  I  lay  at  the  foot  of  thy  throne, 
Due  tribute  to  champion  of  all  Earth's  oppressed, 
From  their  refuge  and  shelter,  the  Land  of  the  West. 


PEOEM. 


For  thee — primordial  and  persistent  force  at  base 
Of  warring  Nature,  that,  untiring,  strains  to  lift 
The  stubborn  crust  of  sullen  earth  to  higher  plane ; 
That  raves  as  fiercely  in  the  microscopic  drop, 
As  in  the  Titan's  heart,  aflame  with  prisoned  wrath, 
Sobbing  strange  imprecations  at  the  jeering  gods ; 
That  drags  the  dreaming  hermit  to  his  squalid  cell ; 
And  drives  the  maudlin  conquerer  to  his  rocking 

throne  ; 

Yet  mocks  the  equal  woe  of  each  complaining  wretch ; 
Hoping  from  purple  or  from  sackcloth  to  obtain 
Cure  for  the  anguish  that  pervades  his  writhing  soul — 
O !  Discontent,  what  I  have  delved  for  in  the  mines 

of  thought, 
I  've  coined  in  fretful  words,  in  hope  to  swell  thy 

spleen  to  rage. 

Thy  piping  cry  that,  singly,  sounds  as  far  and  faint 
As  from  another  world,  on  the  dulled  ears  of  pride, 
When  muttered  by  the  footsore  tramp  who  slinks 

from  Law, 

Dreading  the  pains  of  trespass  on  a  deed-fenced  land, 
Once  voiced  by  unit  will  of  Man,  the  Socialist, 
Outs  wells   the   arching   heavens,  and   frights  with 

savage  roar 
The  flaming  sword  that  fends  him  from  his  Paradise. 


Proem. 


Redeemer — thou !  The  hot  cloud  column  in  the  van 
Of  angry  myriads,  struggling  from  their  wilderness ; 
Their  stinging  serpents,  when  each  weakling  wails 

his  fate 
In  solitary  suffering. 

For  the  self  same  act, 
Committed  by  a  multitude,  is  solemn  law, 
Which,  if  attempted  by  a  thoughtful,  lonely  wight, 
Is  grossest  treason  'gainst  the  ordered  State. 

Yea !   Killing  is  no  Murder  when  a  Czar's  dull  frown 
Finds  dim  reflection  from  a  desolated  land, 
Whose  glooms  are  flared  by  Arson's  nihilistic  torch, 
As  blind  Despair  pries  at  the  gates  of  Hell  for  light. 
His  knout  is  but  a  grieving  parent's  brittle  switch, 
His  scaffold  but  the  pulpit  whence  he  reprehends, 
Siberia  but  the  dark  room  for  a  naughty  child; 
While  worse  than  parricide  is  his  offense  who  points 
With  nerveless  hand,  a  threat  at  God's  Successor, 
throned. 

But  Discontent,  grown  universal,   on  the  traitor's 

brow 

Wreathes  Revolution's  laurels,  as  rejoicing  hails 
Each  creaking,  shifting  change  of  Earth's  kaleido- 
scope. 

And  Justice,  like  a  butcher  from  his  slaughter-house, 
Her  ermine  scarlet-dyed  with  Tyrants'  blood,  to  Love 
Smells  sweeter  than  a  world  perfumed  by  odors  'stilled 
From  Pity's  tears,  dropped  on  the  hands  of  Charity. 


8  Proem. 


When  gasping  Freedom  bursts  thro'  pangs  and  moans 

and  wails, 

To  lie  in  ecstacy  on  Nature's  brimming  breasts, 
And  drain  the  nectar  she  bestows  Fraternity, 
Like  a  red  morning  star  the  clotted  guillotine 
Mirrors  the  crimson  tides   poured  from  travailing 

Earth, 
And  fades  in  blushing  dawn  that  heralds  perfect  day. 


PREFATORY. 


These,  my  conceits,  I've  dressed  in  simple  phrase  : 

Believe  and  trust  them,  ridicule,  condemn  — 
Ignore  them  utterly,  and  let  them  drown 
In  Time's  flood,  like  the  vamped  jests  of  a  clown. 
To  me  alike  abuse,  contempt  and  praise 

As  I  from  Ebal,  Greed's  mailed  hosts  blaspheme. 

All  things  I  try  and  hold  what  I  deem  good. 

No  caste,  no  creed,  no  fear,  contracts  my  sense  ; 
At  no  Gamaliel's  feet  I  sit  to  grind 
Husk  of  dead  thought  through  wonder-gaping  mind, 
And  all  the  lore  of  Man  is  here  eschewed, 
Unless  sustained  by  Nature's  evidence. 

When  I  describe  the  shambles,  I  don't  use 

Words  culled  from  a  perfumer's  glossary  — 
I  am  a  Man,  and  for  my  fellows  feel, 
Whose  lives  are  spent  in  turning  Ixion's  wheel  : 
Even  curses  coined  by  fiends  were  weak  to  accuse 
The  dogs  I  egg  in  Nature's 


What  cares  the  Sybil,  though  the  Augur  mocks 

The  scrolls  that  tell  the  destiny  of  Rome  ; 
Her  message  laid  before  his  sneering  eyes, 
Her  mission  ended  ;  —  let  him  then  despise 
At  peril  her  dread  preachment,  —  she  unlocks 
The  Future,  he  may  read,  or  not,  the  tome, 


10  Prefatory. 


A  tiny  drop  of  Life's  broad  current,  I 

Must  radiate  the  light  that  on  me  falls ; 
The  highest  truth  I  see,  I  must  proclaim, 
By  instinct  driven.     What  is  praise  or  blame 
To  him  who  stands  upon  the  mystery 

Of  Hope  and  Dread,  of  Love  and  Death,  and  calls 

His  fellows  to  unbolt  the  gates  of  gloom, 

In  which  they're  prisoned  ;  Aye  !  who  shows  a 

key 

He  thinks  would  bring  them  from  the  crypts  of  creeds 
To  Nature's  harvests,  rustling  with  good  deeds. 
Even  though  'tis  mirage  fills  his  eye  with  bloom 
Beyond  Faith's  walls — within  is  Misery. 

Here  fantasies  and  logic  are  combined, 
By  nature-taught,  assimilating  brain, 
Which  seeks  for  cause  in  every  consequent, 
And  has  no  faith,  but  in  experiment, 

Sees  nothing  sacred  in  what  men  have  shrined, 
Has  prayed  with  Jesus,  and  has  curst  with  Cain. 

Heard  Darwin  mourn  how  Rosseau's  babies  died ; 

Knows  Babeuf  perished,  for  his  love  had  fists. 
Has  fathomed  on  the  coral  reefs  of  thought, 
The  depth  of  bigot  waves  that  o'er  them  float, 
Saw  Voltaire  growing  out  the  turbid  tide, 
And  Jefferson,  upbuilt  on  Rabelais'  jests. 

Something  of  each  it  has  materialized ; 

Has  talked  with  Nihilists,  with  Fourier  slept ; 
Has  dined  with  Malthus,  seen  Mazzini's  steel ; 


Prefatory.  11 


Felt  Louis  tremble,  heard  Robespierre  squeal. 
From  all  that's  curst,  and  all  that's  canonized, 
Has  jumbled  words,  and  this  expression  shaped. 

'Tis  concentration  of  the  myriad  dreams 

Have   fallen  through  ages,  on  man's   troubled 

sleep. 

If  through  the  horn  or  ivory  gates  they  tiy 
Is  still  the  argument.     While  some  decry 
Their  substance,  others  see  the  gleams 

Of  brighter  future  through  life's  tempests  sweep. 

Little  of  Ingersoll ;  his  widening  vest 

Contains,  I  think,  the  bulk  he  has  to  spare. 
Full  fed,  a  Berkshire  discontent  will  lie 
Grumbling  and  grunting  in  his  narrow  sty ; 
I  build  a  sheep-fold ;  he'd  as  loud  protest, 
If  its  full  ricks  gave  all  an  equal  share. 

A  fat  man's  mind  is  fat.     A  greasy  world' 
The  chubby  Cherub  on  rich  gravies  fed, 
With  brain  of  adipose,  contents ;  but  grim 
Starvation  proves  to  bony  Seraphim. 

Lard  is  not  sentient.    Nerves  need  friction.    Oiled 
By  the  gross  stomach,  the  absorbing  head 

Reasons  to  their  periphery  —  the  skin. 

And  bounds  its  vision  with  what's  good  to  eat. 
'Twill  sight  concentrate  on  the  brimming  trough, 
Deny  the  pail  above,  and  ribald  scoff 

From  roly-poly  shoats  wakes  laughter's  din, 

At  thought  of  Conscious  Power  that  gave  the 
meat. 


12  Prefatory. 


Methinks  God's  love   was  there,  though  Joshua 

smote 

The  lapping  young  of  tigerish  Canaanites  : 
A  better  breed,  perhaps,  than  they,  the  Jews, 
(That's  where  I'd  quibble,  but  I  can't  refuse 
It  possible)  and  wise  Love  would  devote 

Cub  with  its  dam,  their  fledglings  with  the  kites. 

if  he  regrets  to  see  an  adult  Czar 

Escape  the  Nihilist,  a  fasting  week 
Might  clear  his  vision.     If  from  cross-carved  womb 
The  knife  sent  pulpy  fiendlings  to  their  doom, 

The  hunger-sharpened  intellect  would  not  scare, 
For  Progress  loves  to  hear  their  dying  squeak. 

Who  strikes  a  tyrant,  strikes  in  self-defence, 
For  he's  attacked  whose  fellow  is  assailed. 
But  they  who  dare  annihilate  the  race 
That's  born  for  rule,  by  God's  transmitted  grace, 
Aid  the  next  age,  destroy  the  testaments 

By    which    wolves'    rights    are    on   wolf-cubs 
entailed. 

Ah !  Ingersoll.     Why  choke  yourself  with  dust, 

Groping  from  light  for  mummied  Bull-gods,  while 
The  pyramids  that  shrined  them,  still  enfold 
Their  spirit,  in  curse-procreating  Gold. 

Wouldst  rid  earth  of  them  ?      Here   your   lever 

thrust ; 

Power,  Faith-fed,  based  on  Metal,  claims  your 
skill. 


Prefatory.  13 


That's  why  I  think  'tis  right  that  muscled  brain, 

Should  grant  no  quarter  to  fat-stomached  jowl ; 
And  that  'tis  time  the  hungry  stork  had  ceased 
Attempting  share  the  fox's  plattered  feast, 
And  left  him  in  his  domicile,  the  Fane, 

Where  mind-starved  Toil  eats  with  the  paunchy 
Cowl. 

How  dare  I  say,  that  I  have  reached  to  light 
In  this  agglomerate  of  distorted  thought : 
I  only  know  the  idea's  in  me  grown, 
An  evolution  of  the  Cause  Unknown 
Of  all  existence.     That  it  aids  the  Right 

Or  Wrong,  I  know  not.     I  have  only  wrought 

Material  as  the  All-creative  Power 

Here  forms  a  porcupine  and  there  a  dove. 
Instinct,  selection,  circumstance  and  man, 
Alter,  debase,  improve  on  Nature's  plan. 
I  know  not  if  I've  sown,  or  weed  or  flower, 
Have  scattered  seed  of  hate  or  bloom  of  love. 

Nor  know  I,  if  the  crucible  of  brain 

Has  separated  vulgar  pyrites, 
Or  virgin  gold.     But  this  I  know, —  that  worth 
Is  born  of  need, —  that  nuggets  hid  in  earth 
Were  valueless  as  cowries  till  a  man, 
Before  them  abject,  bent  adoring  knees. 

The  boiling  blood  of  an  unlicensed  youth 

With  vapors  clouding  sense,  and  marring  [sight, 


14  Prefatory. 


Is  chill  by  years  and  creeps  through  sluggish  veins, 
But  in  the  eve  of  life  the  mind  attains 
Some  faint  perception  of  eternal  truth, 

And  eyes  unfevered,  harmonize  with  light. 

Life's  dusty  highway  grimes  its  traveler, 

Plodding  through  jarring  crowds  his  bickering 

path. 

Who  would  be  clean,  must  seek  its  grassy  lanes. 
In  their  clear  springs  must  cleanse  his  guilty  stains 
When  shadows  lengthen  and  the  sunset's  near, 
For  souls,  like  bodies,   should  be   washed  for 
death. 

And  I,  who've  striven  to  efface  the  soils, 
Of  sordid,  selfish,  and  discordant  days, 
And  know  the  enjoyment  cleanliness  bestows, 
Must,  'ere  the  hastening  glooms  bring  me  repose, 
From  leafy  covert  beckon  him  who  toils, 
To  shaded  rests,  and  water-freshened  ways. 

I  know  the  man  who  first  affronted  God, 

Was  he  who  first  walled  in  a  plot  of  ground 
And  called  the  enclosure  his,  for  his  the  expense, 
Then  taught  his  brothers  to  respect  his  fence ; 
Persuaded  them  to  join  the  wretched  fraud, 
And  wound  the  earth  by  building  village  pound. 

I  know  that  Man  is  Nature's  rightful  heir 

Of  all  amassed  by  Greed,  by  Toil  unearned ; 
From  Pisgah's  height,  beyond  the  brawling  ford 
Of  Jordan,  I  can  see  the  pagan  horde 


•  Prefatory.  15 


Float  feudal  banners  o'er  the  lands  they  share, 
And  know,   like   Canaanites,    they've   but  so- 
journed 

In  Law's  walled  cities,  till  Toil's  nation  grew, 

Through  Egypt's  long  harass,  and  painful  path 
Through  wilderness,  to  knowledge  of  its  wrong. 
Aye,  even  now,  I  see  the  grime-stained  throng, 
Eager  to  cross,  impatient,  wait  review, 

While  Joshua  voices  God,  and  wakes  their  wrath. 

I  know  if  Man,  not  ready  for  a  step, 

Has  been  a  dullard  at  Dame  Nature's  school 
That  though  with  Jesus'  knotted  cord  I  goad, 
He'll  see  Chimaeras  in  the  surveyed  road, 
And  like  a  frightened  baby,  backward  creep, 
At  Progress  piping  melancholy  pule. 

Progress  must  fit  the  time.     In  vain  essay 

To  raise  a  harvest  on  unfurrowed  ground, 
And  Nature's  force  is  wasted  if  the  sail 
Is  set  to  edge  it ;  zephyr  then  or  gale 

May  woo,  or  bluster.     Cogs  have  holiday, — 
The  hopper  grows  adust,  no  meal  is  ground. 

So,  if  my  thought  is  born  too  soon,  because 

No  man  will  nurse  it,  it  must  die,  perforce. 
If  mental  opium,  I  have  smoked  and  seen 
A  mawkish  vision  on  fantastic  screen, 

And  each  sane  soul  my  rascal  rhyme  inveighs, 
In  either  case,  why  should  I  feel  remorse  ? 


16  Prefatory. 


I  have  faint  hope  that  Lazarus  will  hear ; 

I  know  full  well,  if  Dives  does,  I'm  damned 
All  round  the  compass.     Well,  my  days  are  short 
And  gray  my  head,  but  grayer  far,  my  heart. 
I've  borne  his  blows,  I  can  despise  his  jeer  — 
O  !  Lazarus,  hearken  !  'Tis  for  you,  I'm  shamed  ! 

Yet,  he  will  not,  for  keenest  thought  can't  pierce 

The  semi-conscious,  gross-grained  pachyderm. 
Wisdom  ne'er  works  directly  on  the  mass, 
Whose  brutal  passions  Reason  can  not  face ; 
Fit  but  for  conflict,  noisy,  jarring,  fierce, 
Unlicked,  unwashed,  with  intellect  in  germ. 

For  all  the  multitudinous  expanse 

Of  souls  untaught,  spreads  bare  and  dessicate, 
A  void  Zahara,  under  science'  sun, 
Incapable  of  growth,  a  dismal  zone 

Which  ne'er  felt  rainfall  on  its  seedless  sands, 
And  swallows  every  rill  would  irrigate. 

Could  Lazarus  think,  what  countless  books  he'd 

read  ! 

If  he  had  time,  how  quickly  would  he  learn  ! 
But  long  hours'  toil,  and  fainting  overwork 
A  thousand  brains  leaves  waste,  that  one  may  shirk, 
Though  Hygeia  begs  him  sweat,  and  swears  its 

need, 
He's  sick  with  spending,  what  they  die  to  earn. 

For  health  is  the  reward  of  exercise, 

While  toil  consumes,  and  luxury  cankers  life ; 


Prefatory.  17 


Each  earns  his  doom  who  Nature  disobeys, 
The  fool  who  suffers,  and  the  fool  who  preys ; 
And  suicidal  laughter,  born  of  sighs, 

Jars    Heaven    with   peeans    of   earth's    endless 
strife. 

Ah !  if  dull  tools  a  poor  mechanic  make, 

If  dastard  he,  who  wields  a  pointless  spear, 
How  can  law-givers  with  greed's  blunted  brain, 
A  comprehensive  view. of  Right  attain, 

Who  at  each  movement  of  the  people  quake  — 
For  plunder  won  by  shame,  is  held  in  fear. 

If  from  my  mind  has  sprung  a  natural  force 

To  aid  my  fellows  climbing  to  the  Light, 
Or  if  brain  soaked  in  bilious  discontent, 
Has  railing  thus  at  Order  found  a  vent, — 
If  as  a  seer  I'm  wise,  or  crazed  and  coarse, 
I  plead  for  love,  or  angry  men  excite, — 

What  I  have   thought,  I've  writ,  felt  what  I've 

said ; 

Bruised  and  in  pain  'tis  Nature  bids  me  cry. 
Though  all  mankind  in  rage  and  horror  scream, 
My  tongue  must  tell  my  vision,  pen  my  dream, 
Nor  from  anath'mas  will  I  shield  my  head, 
Though  all  the  earth  proclaim  my  truth  a  lie. 

My  thought  is  born,  and  claims  its  utterance  ; 
I'll  speak  it,  though  it  floats  on  idle  winds ; 
I'll  speak  it   outright,  though    the  thick  thronged 

square 
Mock  it  as  craziness,  or  vacant  stare  ; 


18  Prefatory. 


Music  to  me,  though  it  be  dissonance 
To  every  ear,  and  discord  to  all  minds. 

For  I,  although  a  dwarf,  am  sure  I've  climbed 

The  shoulders  of  the  Titans.     I  can  clod 
The  low,  free-pass-won  Heaven  that  men  attain, 
Denying  Life  its  instincts,  Toil  his  gain, 

And  will,  because  I  like  to.     I  have  rhymed 
My  pellets.     Stand  from  under,  Man-made  God. 

Beyond  the  vision  of  the  pessimist, 

I  see  Earth's  buzzing  strifes  engender  loves, 
See  Sun-warmed  worlds  evolve  of  nebula, 
See  breathing  raptures  springing  from  decay  ; 
Through  every  change  see  Nature's  laws  persist, 
Compelling  Chaos'  whir  to  Order's  grooves. 


THE    PEOLOGUE. 


Tumbling  on  Time's  tempestuous  tides, 
The  world  through  weary  ages  rides, 
And,  deep  within  its  foetid  hold, 
In  darkness  packs  the  slaves  of  Gold. 
Since  Day  was  born  the  unwieldy  bulk 
Of  the  storm-driven,  battered  hulk, 
With  rudder  useless,  compass  lost, 
Is  on  the  scud-capped  billows  tossed. 

Deep  in  their  troughs  it  straining  rolls, 

With  smothering  freight  of  famished  souls, 

Uncheered  by  hope  of  brighter  lot, 

"  Born  but  to  propagate  and  rot " — 

As  fish  in  subterranean  streams, 

Unvisited  by  gladdening  beams, 

Prisoned  in  gloom,  lose  optic  nerve 

When  vision  can  no  uses  serve  — 

Their  eyeless  minds  no  gleam  discern, 

Though  Thought  may  flash  and  Science  burn ; 

By  ages  of  Oppression's  night, 

So  long  deprived  of  Reason's  light, 

That  even  the  power  is  lost,  of  sight. 

Its  engines,  whose  resistless  force, 
Heart  lit,  might  drive  them  on  their  course, 
With  dampened  fires,  grew  foul  with  rust, 
In  the  dank  air  of  noisome  lust, 


20  Earth's  wealth  producers, 

Whose  dense,  mephitic  vapors  quench 

All  purer  love  with  stifling  stench, 

Until  each  generation  see's 

A  viler  stand  between  its  knees, 

As  if  a  race  of  foul  Yahoos 

Degenerated  —  breeding  Jews. 

Since  Savagery  has  "no  name 

For  crimes,  whose  purple  blazons  shame ; 

Nor  can  a  hunger-dazed,  dim  eye, 

Through  the  wild,  driving  mists  descry 

A  star,  the  enshrouding  gloom  to  cheer, 

Or  point  them  whitherward  to  steer. 

Thro'  op'ning  seams  the  turbid  waves 
Engulf  them  in  unnoted  graves. 
Toil's  tears  their  hardened  muscles  drip, 
To  keep  afloat  their  prison  ship, 
As  the  dumb,  wearied  wretches  ply 
The  jarring  pumps,  in  dread  to  die. 
O'er  Hate's  cold,  lifeless,  frigid  zone, 
Chartless  they  drift  through  seas  unknown, 
While  their  discordant  cries  of  pain 
Are  drowned  in  Luxury's  glad  refrain  — 
For  the  bright  cabins  ring  with  mirth, 
And  swear  it  is  a  happy  earth. 


Such  lives  they  lead  as  those  who  lodge 
In  Venice,  with  her  doting  Doge, 
Power's  image ;  whose  authority 
Was  held  by  the  mysterious  "  Three." 
His  gilded  palace  — based  on  slime  — 
On  Oubliettes  built,  awarded  crime 


Live  in  misery.  21 


Of  discontent  with  purse-ruled  state, 
A  prison  'neath  the  waves  that  beat 
Around  its  huge,  basaltic  pride, 
In  glooms,  dank  with  the  turbid  tide ; 
Was  roofed  with  dismal,  noisome  caves 
Where  torture's  engines,  worked  by  slaves, 
Resounded  shrieks  of  wretches  doomed 
To  breathe  in  pain,  from  life  entombed  — 
Impatient,  urging  fate,  with  cries, 
For  passage  o'er  the  Bridge  of  Sighs ; 
While  all  between  the  dismal  cells  — 
Above,  below  —  wealth-laden  walls, 
Where  power  and  gold  with  beauty  met, 
Rang  with  the  dancers'  pattering  feet, 
Twirling  in  pleasure's  careless  round  — 
Unheard  their  groans,  in  music  drowned. 


O,  Toil !  what  power  has  thus  immured 
Your  body,  and  your  mind  obscured  ? 
As  though  Fate  held  you  under  ban  — 
A  fungous  growth  of  mouldering  man, 
Existent  on  your  own  decay ; 
Aspiring  as  your  kindred  clay ; 
Pasted  like  lichen  on  a  rock ; 
When  each  should,  as  a  sturdy  oak, 
Control  the  soil  its  rootlets  tap, 
Thence  drawing  germinating  sap. 

Say !  is  it  by  decree  divine, 
Your  stomach  rattles  on  your  spine  ? 
That  you,  from  age  to  age,  are  sure 
Of  nothing,  but  that  you  endure, 


22  Has  G-od  so  intended  ? 

And  live,  as  though  the  desert  sands 

Were  harvested  for  your  demands  ? 

While  emerald  wealth  springs  from  the  loam 

Around  the  hut  you  call  a  home  ; 

Rented  of  some  gor-bellied  sot, 

Coarse,  truculent,  unfeeling,  hot, 

With  bailiff  slinking  at  his  back 

Should  you,  upon  the  gale  day,  lack 

The  sum  he  claims  for  leave  to  stand  — 

Upon  God's  earth  ?  No  ;  on  his  land ! 

Has  some  dread  Demiurgus  curled 
His  frightful  coils  about  your  world, 
Forcing  the  soul  of  nature  from 
Her  jellied,  granite-banded  frame  ; 
And  pain,  eternal,  hopeless,  wrought 
By  fsecal  matter,  stifling  thought? 

Is  it  by  Nature's  law  you  wail 
In  endless  misery;  and  quail 
With  shrinking  shoulders,  quivering  lip, 
As  Helots,  at  a  Spartan's  whip, 
Before  the  feasting  few  —  and  dare" 
Scarce  join  your  knotty  hands  in  prayer 
To  Paul's  and  Calvin's  clay-grimed  God 
In  his  huge  pottery,  gone  mad  ? 
Who,  fiendish  in  his  raving  zeal, 
Forms  on  his  swift  revolving  wheel, 
Pots  and  spittoons  in  vilest  delf 
By  myriads  to  o'er  weight  his  shelf; 
While  scarce  a  mould  of  Parian  ware, 
Escapes,  unbroke,  his  furnace  fire. 


.ZVb, — Man,  a  self -tormentor.  23 

Not  so,  O,  Brethren  !     Reason  shows 
Man  works  his  own  unceasing  woes. 
The  laws  of  every  state  declare 
Their  makers  in  the  men  who  share 
Toil's  plunder,  as  they  grant  his  gain 
To  pitiless  and  scheming  brain. 

'Tis  we,  ourselves,  that  frame  and  build 
The  hold,  with  want  and  squalor  filled, 
Whence  Labor,  feeding  all  the  earth, 
Harvests  his  own  perpetual  dearth. 
'Tis  we  who  gild  and  ornament 
The  cabins,  where  the  insolent 
And  thankless  Dives  holds  his  court, 
Making  Toil's  agony  his  sport. 

Man's  laws  are  the  dumb-waiters  lift 
With  silent  speed  the  gains  of  thrift, 
To  feed  his  fellow  voyagers 
Through  life,  as  first-class  passengers, 
With  every  cate  can  please  their  taste, 
Who  never  know  what  't  is  to  fast ; 
While  he,  in  steerage,  dines  on  "  duff," 
And  thanks  them  when  he  gets  enough. 

In  crass  and  torpid  ignorance, 

In  superstitious  reverence 

Of  creeds  effete  and  blasphemous, 

Labor,  a  brawny  Lazarus, 

Pigs  in  his  narrow,  reeking  sty, 

As  't  were  his  natural  destiny  ; 

Snores  when  he's  full ;  a-hungered,  squeals 

Up  the  hatchway  for  hogwash  meals  — 


24  Jesus,  the  /Socialist,  shows  escape—? 

When,  had  he  sense  to  know  his  right, 
And  courage  to  direct  his  might, 
One  gesture  of  his  arm  could  sweep 
His  masters  from  the  groaning  ship. 

Rebel !  O,  Toilers  !     Seize  the  deck  ; 

Or  perish  in  the  shattered  wreck. 

/ 

Let  the  'dull  furnace  glow  with  heat, 
Flaming  from  hearts  whose  rhythmic  beat 
Pulsates  the  quenchless  fires  of  love, 
Through  Man  on  earth  to  God  above. 
When  that  the  ponderous  engines  feel, 
Swift  through  the  billows  rolls  the  wheel ; 
And  the  heart-driven  brain  will  force, 
Through  every  obstacle,  its  course. 

Go !  find  your  compass  in  His  life, 

Who  loved  His  foes  and  hated  strife, 

Yet  waged  incessant,  bitter  war 

With  every  wrong  that  Man  would  mar ; 

Who  poured  His  curses  like  a  flood 

On  those  who  dared  oppress  the  good ; 

Who  tells  you  Heaven  on  Earth  is  won 

By  violence,  and  that  alone  — 

That  you  must  storm  its  walls,  since  Hate 

And  Mammon  lock  and  guard  its  gate. 

Then  grasp  the  helm  of  sturdy  will, 
That  knows  no  fear  and  dreads  no  ill, 
And  Man  has  gained  that  land  of  Hope, 
Where  Reason's  highest  flight  finds  scope. 


His  ffeaven  is  Fraternity.  25 

When  thro'  his  race  is  spread  his  leaven, 
Earth  gains  her  port,  and  floats  in  Heaven. 


The  soul  of  power  is  Intellect ; 
Which  needs  Love  only  to  direct 
Its  motion,  and  its  end's  in  view. 
What  Man  can  think,  that  Man  can  do. 

Up,  Brothers  !  Sons  of  God  !     He  gave 

You  Earth  to  revel  on  —  why  slave  ? 

Blood,  only,  wins  your  right  to  taste 

Milk  welling  from  your  mother's  breast. 

Birth-right,  inalienable !     Room 

On  it  for  all  her  teeming  womb 

Ripens  to  life,  and  anguish  tears 

The  fevered  glands  denied  her  heirs. 

The  love  that  casts  out  fear,  alone 

Can  pluck  fierce  Mammon  from  his  throne. 

Up  !  Brothers,  up  !     A  day  of  Storm ! 

And  lo  !  the  Heavens  grow  sweet  and  warm, 

Life  never  gave  such  raptured  bliss 

As  his  who,  dying,  feels  the  kiss 

Of  future  generations  sip 

Love's  honey  from  his  writhing  lip. 

Up  !  Brothers.     Earth's  Maternity 
Demands  of  Man,  Fraternity, 
And  G-od's  all-loving  Fatherhood 
Is  known  but  ly  Man's  Brotherhood. 


THE    TELEPHONE    TALKS. 


In  radiant  Sunlight,  gorgeous  bloom 
Sheds  through  the  air  its  rich  perfume ; 
Spontaneous  beauty  gilds  all  use ; 
Nature  distills  her  rarest  juice 
Thro'  tree  and  herb,  thro'  root  and  flower, 
Responsive  to  her  lover's  power, 
And  feels  through  every  fibre  run, 
Life-giving  impulse  of  the  Sun. 

But,  Light  excluded,  every  shoot 
Ripens  in  gloom  its  bitter  fruit ; 
And  pallid,  hueless  plants  are  bred, 
Their  veins  with  acrid  poisons  fed. 
Conditions  changed,  the  self-same  soil 
JUvolves  the  beautiful,  and  vile. 

Man,  like  the  soil,  has  seeds  of  both, 

And  Nature's  laws  control  their  growth. 

The  Microcosm,  in  him  blend 

A  foetal  Angel,  foetal  Fiend. 

If  Love's  liofht  nourish  heart  and  brain, 

O  ' 

To  Angel's  stature  he'll  attain ; 
While  demons  greet  him  as  their  kin, 
Whose  darkened  soul  is  dwarfed  by  sin. 

All  life  's  but  ripened  matter ;  shown 
Its  noblest  form  when  Man  was  grown ; 


28  The  causes  of  human  suffering 

Earth's  highest  animal's  the  loam 

Where  Heaven's  seed  finds  destined  home  ; 

Whence  it  may  spring  to  flower  above 

Her  limits,  redolent  of  Love  ; 

Or  rot,  if  Want  and  Hatred  fill, 

With  venom,  the  malignant  soil. 

The  frolic  air,  electric  fed, 
By  which  the  Sun  and  Earth  are  wed  ; 
Her  marriage  ring,  through  which  unite 
The  craving  mould  and  force  of  light ; 
Whose  chemic  power,  from  bleak  sun-ray, 
Evolves  the  energy  of  day  — 
Whence  the  glad  universe  is  rife 
With  infinite  forms  of  joyous  life  — 
By  wak'ning  current  unendowed. 
Beneath  the  poles,  is  Nature's  shroud, 
Death's  empty  eyes  forever  glare  — 
Earth  shudders  as  her  lover's  stare, 
Embrace  refuses  to  her  prayer : 
And  ice-perpetual  palls  in  gloom 
Nature's  unquickened,  barren  womb. 

So,  in  Love's  transports,  souls  aspire 
Toward  the  Uncreated  Fire  ; 
Bathe  in  its  beams,  and  germinate, 
To  flower  beyond  the  realms  of  Hate. 
Their  lives  are  zephyrs,  known  and  felt 
Thro'  the  abodes  of  grief  and  guilt ; 
Fanning  the  weary,  raising  hope 
In  the  dim  caverns  where  men  mope, 
All  fibreless,.  exsanguine,  pale, 


Shown  by  lessons  from  Nature.  29 

Until  in  rapture  they  inhale 
That  brighter  air,  that  never  shone 
Upon  a  temple,  fane  or  throne ; 
Far  from  the  hurricanes  of  creeds  ; 
Filled  with  the  odors  of  good  deeds. 

And  so  in  torpor  lies  the  heart, 
Shriveled  in  Mammon's  sordid  mart  — 
As  in  Greed's  chill  and  callous  strife, 
Perish  the  seeds  of  nobler  life. 
The  brutal,  brawling  multitude 
Exalts  the  base,  and  spurns  the  good ; 
Creed's  nightmare  spectres,  cold  and  gaunt, 
The  barren  soul  with  terrors  haunt, 
And  Hate  hastes  to  the  cross  to  nail 
Who  dares  his  frozen  sleep  assail. 


The  limpid  stream,  born  of  sweet  springs, 
That  thro'  gay  meadows  purling  sings, 
And  roots  of  scented  lilies  laves 
As  Naiads  frolic  in  its  waves, 
In  glancing  joy  swift  turns  the  wheel 
Which  grinds  for  man  his  wholesome  meal ; 
But,  checked,  its  free,  hilarious  course, 
Its  outlet  dammed,  becomes  his  curse  — 
A  steaming  marsh,  miasma  rife, 
Whose  reeking  vapors  threaten  life. 

Disease  and  crime  the  world  would  fly, 
And  Eden  spread  beneath  the  sky ; 
All  Earth  with  Heaven's  warmth  would  glow, 
Did  Life  in  natural  channels  flow. 


30  By  G-reed,  not  G-od,  the  earth  is  curst. 

But  dead  to  Love,  and  ruled  by  Hate, 
Her  tideless  waves  in  filth  stagnate ; 
Hell's  fevers  riot  in  her  veins, 
And  filial  blood  her  bosom  stains ; 
Rank  poisons  her  baked  breasts  distil, 
Pulsating  to  Ambition's  thrill. 

Food  full,  when  she  from  chaos  burst, 
By  Greed,  not  God,  the  earth  is  curst. 
The  aeons  she  thro'  space  has  rolled, 
Have  seen  unquenched  Man's  thirst  for  Gold ; 
Bright  dross,  which  neither  clothes  nor  feeds, 
Relieves  Man's  wants,  nor  aids  his  needs, 
By  some  dull  juggle  of  the  fates, 
Starves  human  loves,  feeds  human  hates. 

Since  first  Man's  foot  her  verdure  trod, 
Since  lust  of  gain  first  turned  her  sod, 
Mammon  has  ruled  the  Earth  —  her  God  ; 
And  self-made  men,  his  votaries  — 
Blind  to  Man's  tears,  deaf  to  his  cries ; 
Insane  with  morbid  selfishness, 
Which  knows  no  end,  but  to  amass  — 
For  warp  and  woof  of  Mammon's  thought, 
Of  but  one  fibre,  self,  is  wrought  — 
By  theft  or  war,  by  law  or  fraud, 
O'er  Labor's  corses,  hellwards  plod. 

Whence  comes  its  pestilential  power, 
On  Life  unnumbered  ills  to  shower  — 
In  the  bright  metal  gleams  no  trace 
Of  gnawing  mordant  —  to  efface 


Human  law  sanctions  crime.  31 

All  love,  all  pity  from  the  mind, 
And  leave  Man  alien  to  his  kind  ? 

By  Law  its  dreadful  force  is  given, 

To  blast  an  earth  that  else  were  Heaven. 

Man's  brutal  intellect,  warped  by  greed, 

Makes  it,  hermaphroditic,  breed  ; 

Its  litter,  Interest,  must  be  fed 

Ere  Labor  touch  his  daily  bread. 

This  busy  hive,  the  World's  in  debt, 
Mortgaged  its  future  toil  and  sweat ; 
Insensate  greed,  inhuman  craze, 
The  orbed  planet  dares  appraise, 
Malaria  filled,  weeds  overgrown, 
By  whirlwinds  harvested,  wind  sown  ; 
While  Labor,  owner  of  the  world, 
By  Law  from  his  domain  is  hurled, 
And  abject,  clothed  in  rags  and  vice, 
Begs  at  the  gates  of  Paradise, 
Where  Capital  entrenched  stands, 
Deriding  his  gnarled,  pleading  hands  — 
Refusing  entrance,  tho'  the}*-  spread 
Before  his  eyes  th'  Almighty's  deed. 

Power,  to  perpetuate  his  hold, 

Borrows  a  g-eneration's  gold  — 

Compels  a  coming  century 

To  brace  his  purple  anarchy. 

Labor  pays  interest  on  the  expense 

Of  trampled  grain  and  camp-burnt  fence, 

And  leaves  its  principal  to  gall 


EartTis  peace  is  endless  war 


The  shoulders  of  his  heirs,  who  crawl 
Abject  before  their  plunderers, 
As  did  their  seed-debasing  sires, 
When  Glory  led  the  trooped  Earthworms 
Wriggling  to  death,  in  uniforms. 

War  stalks  on  Credit  o'er  the  Earth, 
And  the  fat  Banker's  chuckling  mirth 
Is  echoed  thro'  the  lowest  Hell, 
As  Death's  loans  at  a  premium  sell. 
When  Usury,  from  the  peasant's  hoard, 
Entices  flames  to  forge  the  sword, 
The  wretches  who  in  anguish  writhe 
On  battle  fields,  are  scarce  a  tithe 
Of  those  War's  fiercer  engines  slay, 
When  wages-slaves  become  his  prey, 
And  his  scythed  chariot's  wider  swarth 
Cuts  down  the  workman  at  his  hearth  ; 
Whose  hungry  entrails  yield  their  food 
To  traffickers  in  tears  and  blood,    , 
While  Interest  pours  in  Luxury's  lap 
The  profits  of  Man's  annual  crop. 

This  the  cause  —  not  Law  divine  — 
Workers  eat  lees,  and  drones  drink  wine ; 
That  nobles  guard  his  restless  dream, 
Whose  brow's  begirt  with  diadem  — 
A  daemon  in  a  human  skin, 
Surfeit  with  cates  and  palled  with  sin  — 
'Gainst  whose  lust,  virtue  has  no  fence, 
Honored,  when  ravished  by  a  prince  ; 
Before  whose  frown  scared  Justice  flies, 


5 ]  Twixt  man  and  Man  for  "profit"  33 

As  crimes  with  crimes  antagonize, 
Upholding  over  Man  the  throne, 
As  rounding  arch  supports  keystone. 

Aye,  Profit,  fortified  by  laws  — 

This  is,  and  this  alone,  the  cause 

That  starving  Labor  toils  in  pain, 

On  offal  fed,  for  Usury's  gain. 

For,  keeping  step  to  fife  and  drum, 

Lean  Famine  ravishes  his  home, 

Piecemeal  consumes  his  prattling  babe, 

By  rickets,  pustulence,  and  scab. 

To  Brothel  hales  his  blooming  maid  — 

For  prostitution  is  the  trade, 

Whose  wages  Mammon  still  concedes 

To  Beauty,  when  for  life  she  pleads  — 

And  invoice  furnishes  to  Lust 

Of  rounded  limb  and  budding  bust, 

Of  carmine  lip  and  tinted  cheek  ; 

With  liquid  eyes  that  love  bespeak, 

Designed  to  smile  in  motherhood 

Upon  a  sturdy,  dimpled  brood  ; 

And  bears  their  value  in  a  rag 

To  muzzled  pimp  and  scowling  hag — 

For  the  ugly,  base,  deformed,  and  old 

Are  favorites  of  the  God  of  Gold — 

Where,  slobbered  by  disease,  she  weds 

With  syphilitic  death,  and  spreads 

Contagion  thro'  her  sisters'  beds, 

Whence  scores  of  tainted  embryos, 

Thro'  whom  the  adulterous  poison  flows, 

Are  generate  to  avenge  her  woes. 


84  Panaceas. 


Then  drunken,  rotten,  cursing,  dies, 
While  Hades  rings  with  joyous  cries : 
"  Lo  !  War  has  won  another  prize  !  " 
While  Usury  shrieks,  "  Not  his  alone ! 
He  tears  the  flesh,  I  gnaw  the  bone !  " 


The  world's  in  debt ;  that  growing  wen 
Sucks  sustenance  from  the  toil  of  Man, 
And  Usurers  frame  the  law  which  drains 
The  iron  from  his  anemied  veins. 
This  is  the  sick  world's  dire  complaint, 
It  moans  this  noisome  tumor's  taint ; 
Filth  pouring  thro'  the  springs  of  life, 
To  reappear  in  hate  and  strife. 
Its  acrid  humors,  poison  rife, 
In  stinging  ulcers  break,  which  quacks, 
To  heal,  their  grandam's  book-lore  tax, 
And  irredeemable  greenbacks 
Prescribe,  the  poisoned  blood  to  thin, 
That  Capital  new  gains  may  win. 
As  market  price  each  day  is  ruled 
By  Stewart,  Vanderbilt,  and  Gould, 
'Till  Labor  knows  not  if  he'll  crunch 
At  noon  a  dinner  or  a  lunch. 

The  grief's  too  large  ;  no  philophaster 
Can  heal  it  with  a  greenback  plaster. 
The  path  of  justice  is  so  clear 
That  he  who  hesitates  to  steer 
The  course  her  compass  indicates, 
Nears  error's  rocks  each  hour  he  waits 
There,  even  a  donbt  confessed  is  strong, 
Indubitable  proof  of  wrong. 


Fiat  money  no  benefit  to  Labor.  35 

Wisdom  is  first  from  folly  learned, 

But  by  mistakes  truth  is  discerned ; 

Yet  wisdom  in  adversity 

Is  folly's  worst  perversity, 

And  growing  servile  wiseacre 

Would  now  inflate  —  Great  God  !  what  for  ? — 

To  double  price  ?     Contraction's  law 

Has  stuffed  with  goods  the  cormorant's  maw ; 

And  fiat-men  need  only  wait 

His  bonds  foreclosed,  he  will  inflate, 

And  thus  disgorge  on  stupid  Toil, 

With  freer  sale,  fierce  Usury's  spoil. 

What  benefit  would  that  bestow 

On  men  who  neither  lend  nor  owe  ? 

Oh  !  Friends,  the  gangrene  claims  a  knife, 

When  Death  invades  the  "  Means  of  life." 


Political  economists, 
Thick-witted,  stubborn  egotists, 
Thick  ointments  spread  upon  each  sore, 
Which  nature  forms,  his  blood  to  cure. 
Huge  thronging  Lazar  houses  grin 
Complacent  at  the  peer's  desmesne, 
While  thro'  their  windows,  dim  and  bare, 
The  law-made  paupers,  hopeless  stare. 
On  lands  untilled,  protect  by  wall, 
All  viewless,  but  impassable  ; 
Which  Nadir  joins  to  Zenith,  strong 
As  Hell  can  plan,  and  build  a  wrong. 
Lest  frenzied  Toil,  in  pain  rebel, 
Such  anodynes  his  tortures  quell, 
And  thirteen  pence  a-week  support 


36  State  charities  a  curse  to  Labor. 

The  antipodes  of  Lord  and  Court 
Forced  by  their  bailiffs  from  the  hoard 
The  Serf  has  from  con-acre  stored 
To  shield  his  gray  hairs  from  "  Relief!  " 
In  hunger  binding  each  thin  sheaf, 
Left  to  reward  back-breaking  spade, 
Its  cess,  tithe,  rent,  and  impost  paid. 

What  threat  has  Law,  that  he  need  fear 
Whose  childrens'  moans  assail  his  ear 
Wailing  for  bread,  and  craving  pence 
From  chariots  driven  at  his  expense ; 
Life  has  no  dread  for  him  who  dies 
To  manhood  daily,  while  his  cries 
Are  answered  by  new  Laws  that  stamp 
On  Yeomens'  brows  the  brand  of  Tramp. 


Labor,  the  nation's  living  blood, 
Corrupted  grows  when  unemployed  ; 
Thus  check  the  virus,  and  amain 
It  clogs  each  artery  and  vein, 
Until  the  scurvied  peoples  tear 
Their  fest'ring  flesh  in  sheer  despair. 
If  then  the  overburdened  State 
Dares  not  its  bane  repudiate, 
If  Mammon  rules  the  purchased  poll, 
And  laws  obey  the  wen's  control  ; 
Wealth  digs  its  own  dishonored  grave, 
While  fires,  petrolean,  o'er  it  rave, 
Or  Toil  becomes  a  hopeless  slave. 
Nutrition  ceases  ;  swift  decay, 
Unchecked,  the  vitals  makes  its  prey, 


How  priests  belie  G-od.  37 

Brute  Gods,  herd  brutish  beasts,  and  scan 
With  anger  in  their  ranks,  a  Man, 
Till  Barbarism  hastes  to  bless, 
States  sunk  in  putrid  rottenness. 


What  mockery  then,  the  priest's  pretence  — 

Unraveller  of  Omnipotence, — 

Whose  courtly  tongue  in  unctuous  phrase 

Expounds  the  mysteries  of  God's  ways, 

Whose  hypocritic  piety 

Imputes  man's  crimes  to  Deity, 

For  stipend  preaching  dull  content 

To  Famine  by  misgovernment, 

Canting  of  other  worlds,  the  bliss, 

To  men  who" re  damned  by  greed  in  this. 

O !  prattlers  of  that  other  shore, 
Man's  weary  ear  offend  no  more, 
Nor  soothe  him  with  your  pipe's  dull  strain, 
Who  knows  the  sources  of  his  pain  ; 
Pure  Life-blood  courses  in  his  veins, 
Where  Labor  eats  what  Labor  gains  ; 
Prate  not  of  ills  must  be  endured, 
Disease,  when  diagnosed,  is  cured. 

But  Labor,  like  Prometheus,  cries 

His  agony  to  jeering  skies, 

Since  Mammon  reared  his  hideous  throne 

And  weighs  in  gold,  man's  brain  and  bone. 

From  frosty  Caucasus  his  chain 

Rings  his  eternal  gnawing  pain, 

As  his  self-growing  entrails  feed 

The  vulture  beaks  of  rav'ning  greed  ; 


38  Property  is  robbery. 

And  all  the  wealth  his  horny  hands 

Wrest  from  machines  or  drag  from  lands, 

Through  Profit's  channels  crams  the  guts 

Of  bloated,  gorged  aristocrats, 

Whose  brutish  forms  broadcloths  disguise 

From  undiscriminating  eyes, 

As  through  the  marts  they  pride-full  roll, 

Legged  stomachs  void  of  love  or  soul, 

Swelled  shapeless  by  their  cursed  gain, 

Tortured  from  muscle,  racked  from  brain. 

Earth's  hoarded  wealth  is  Labor's  spoil, 
The  product  of  man's  stolen  toil ; 
But  honey  stored,  on  which  drones  thrive 
Rulers  and  masters  of  the  hive. 

O  !  Brother  Toilers,  'toil  no  more 

For  drones  that  rob  your  hard-earned  store  ; 

Go  to  the  bees :  from  Nature  learn 

You  own  the  wealth,  your  labors  earn  ; 

Frame  her  just  edict  into  law, 

Honey  shall  glut  no  idle  maw  ; 

Who  will  not  work,  he  shall  not  eat ; 

With  justice  blent,  revenge  is  sweet ; 

'Tis  more  than  pleasure,  when  you  feel 

The  snake's  crushed  head  beneath  your  heel ; 

'Tis  more  than  bliss  to  twitch  the  cord 

That  swings  the  sheep-dog  from  the  sward  ; 

'Tis  rapture  when  the  baited  shark 

Lies  gasping,  helpless  on  your  bark  ; 

'Tis  comfort  from  the  trough  to  kick 

The  hog  that  all  the  swill  would  lick. 


The  lesson  of  the  Snow.  39 

Out  with  your  stings ;  let  no  drone  live 
To  crowd  your  cells,  and  rob  your  hive. 

Snow-flakes  an  equal  carpet  spread 
On  field  and  forest,  lawn  and  mead ; 
Red-mittened  children  happy,  whoop 
To  see  th'  increasing  snowball  scoop 
Sun-softened  lustre  from  the  ground, 
And  shape  the  quick-dissolving  mound. 

Upon  the  play-green,  'spite  the  game, 

The  wealth  of  snow  remains  the  same  ; 

The  gathered  heap,  a  Yanderbilt 

His  makers  fright,  the  snow-man  built ; 

The  naked  mould  proves  all  he  gained, 

To  all  the  play-ground  appertained. 

If  here  'tis  heaped  ;  lo  !  there, —  'tis  bared, 

What  Nature  gave,  all  equal  shared. 

Wealth  aggregated,  has  not  grown, 
Its  increase  is  from  seed  that's  sown  ; 
'Tis  only  heaped  ;  in  one  "  Receipt " 
A  hundred  emptied  granaries  meet. 

The  ocean's  force,  immane,  is  spent 
To  keep  a  level.     Discontent 
Surges  upon  each  bellowing  tide, 
As  waves  on  waves,  unending  ride 
Each  other  down  in  wrath  to  reach 
With  emerald  floods  the  fading  beach, 
And  cover  with  their  spuming  roar 
The  angry,  wide,  resounding  shore. 


40  The  Ocean's  teaching 

'Spoiling  their  shuddering  foam,  the  Pole 
High  heaps  them  on  its  frozen  mole ; 
The  ocean's  aggregate's  unchanged, 
Tho'  on  the  Arctic  Coast  are  ranged 
Ice  mountains,  till  the  flattened  zone 
Shows  rounded,  shadowed  on  the  moon. 

At  Greed's  cold  robbery  in  ire 

The  billows  with  the  sun  conspire ; 

He  'venges  aggregating  night, 

With  his  long  day's  continuous  light, 

And  aids  them,  as  they  storming  tear 

Huge  icebergs  from  their  sleety  lair ; 

Their  might,  forever  furious,  rives 

The  monsters,  as  it  tireless  drives 

Them  tumbling  over  ocean's  plain, 

Stubborn  and  dragging,  till  they  wane 

And  perish  in  the  Sun's  hot  beam. 

For  them,  Hate  glowing,  though  each  gleam 

They  wither  under,  serves  to  prove 

Greed's  aggregate  's  destroyed  by  Love. 

So  Law,  than  polar  currents,  cold, 
Pours  gain  on  wealth,  and  gelid  gold 
Draws  increment  from  frozen  men. 
So  Nature,  furious,  seeks  a  plan, 
To  spoil  the  spoiler.     Ocean's  surge 
That  never  tires,  is  men  who  urge 
Their  fellows,  as  the  tides  the  sea, 
To  fret  in  Inequality, 
To  force  on  Law,  Fraternity. 

They've  moved  the  Iceberg  !    It's  begun 
Reluctant  journey  to  the  Sun  ! 


That  tyranny  is  born  of  wealth  ;  41 

The  wealth  that  Toil  creates  is  massed 

By  callous  Greed,  till  Man  aghast, 

Beholds  a  daemon  from  the  heap, 

By  stealthy  laws,  toward  him  creep, 

Dissatisfied,  until  it  grace 

Its  curst  accretion  with  his  face, 

In  which  all  light  of  love  is  quenched 

By  abject  serf-tears,  vilely  drenched. 

Then  for  his  Life  he  strikes.     Debate 
He  can  not  with  embodied  Hate, 
And  though  the  fiend  in  terror  cries, 
"Let  us  alone  !  "  his  plunder  flies 
On  the  glad  winds  in  smoke  and  flame, 
Heaven-curst,  too  foul  for  man  to  claim. 

The  wealth  that  mocks  your  rags  and  grime 
Was  yours,  yea,  is;  no  lapse  of  time 
Title  to  plunder  consecrates, 
For  sleepless  Justice  grimly  waits 
Till  Time  avenge  her  broken  laws, 
And  what  he  can't  restore,  destroys. 


For  centuries  Moloch  heaped  the  spoil 
Of  Afric's  patient  Sons  of  Toil, 
For  gain  the  marriage  bed  defiled, 
The  mother  robbed  of  sucking  child, 
And  strove  by  fetter,  lash,  and  chain, 
To  transform  men  to  brutes,  for  gain. 
Drove  education  from  his  realm, 
Drove  pity,  mercy,  conscience,  shame, 
4 


42  That  Nature  revolts  at  it, 

And  swung  his  cotton-plaited  knout 
At  God  and  Nature,  with  a  shout, 
Defying  both  to  loose  his  hold 
On  Toil,  by  law  convert  to  Gold. 

Vengeance  but  waits.     We  pay  the  debt 
That  Slavery  massed  from  unpaid  sweat. 
With  every  tear  Toil's  sad  eyes  shed, 
With  every- drop  his  torn  back  bled, 
With  every  groan  his  swart  breast  rent, 
Our  tears  and  groans,  and  blood  were  blent. 

For  each  black  babe,  by  Moloch  won 
Caucasian  mother  mourned  a  son  ; 
Our  ardent  youth,  corrupt  and  marred, 
By  foul  war's  leprous  fever  scarred, 
Avenge  the  tortured,  servile  hosts 
We  metamorphosed  into  beasts. 

The  crime-won  wealth  our  godless  pride 

Sanctioned  by  law,  and  sanctified, 

Volcanic  war's  infernal  blast 

Over  the  land,  in  cinders  cast, 

When  God's  avenging  angel  tasked 

His  wrath  for  Freedom's  holocaust, 

And  reaped  the  harvests  grown  from  seed 

Of  Legislation,  which  from  Need 

Stole  all  his  "  Means  of  life  ;  "  nay,  stole, 

And  thought  it  profit,  even  his  soul ! 

Now  every  dollar,  Slavery's  gain, 
Has  vanished  from  our  broad  domain. 


And  exacts  retribution.  43 

The  apples  Sodom's  orchards  bore 
Were  juiceless  ashes  at  the  core  ; 
The  mouths  that  bit  the  ruddy  fruit, 
Disgusted  spat  its  bitter  soot. 
Our  credit  side  no  item  lacked, 
God  kept  the  Ledger — He's  exact. 


Wo  !  to  a  nation,  when  her  prey 
Exceeds  her  utmost  power  to  pay. 
That  for  false  gods  Toil's  plunder  heaps 
In  vaults  secured,  while  Justice  sleeps, 
When  in  his  court  she,  Bankrupt,  stands, 
For  mercy  spreading  blood-stained  hands. 
"  An  eye  for  eye  !  a  tooth  for  tooth  !  " 
A  sob  for  sob,  a  death  for  death, 
Ever  the  measure  that  she  gave, 
That  measure  heaped  she  must  receive. 
Sweet  Pity  sadly  smiles  as  Wrong, 
Unshriven,  locks  her  pleading  tongue, 
While  God's  destroying  angels  shed 
Their  wrathful  vials  on  her  head, 
'Till  all  her  splendors,  from  their  dust, 
Proclaim  to  Man  that  He  is  just. 

In  his  stained,  dreary  records  read 
How  Time  avenges  wrongs  to  Need. 
See  the  long  roll  of  Empires  built 
On  plundered  Labor,  how  their  guilt 
Despoiled  and  cursed  the  teeming  soil, 
'Till  deserts  spread  where  man  was  vile. 


44  What  History  teaches  :  Ashur,  Egypt, 

What  now  Assyria's  fat  plains, 

Where  driven  slaves  reared  Belus'  fanes  ? 

The  owl  hoots  and  the  bittern  moans, 

Where  chanting  priests  drowned  Labor's  groans. 

The  savage  nomad's  filthy  tents 

Stink  on  her  crumbled  monuments. 

Huge  tumuli  reveal  the  ground 

Whence  Bab'lon  over  Asia  frowned, 

Whose  massive  walls  derision  sneered 

At  God  and  man — alike  unfeared. 

Historic  bricks,  on  which  she  'graved 

The  nations  that  her  arms  enslaved, 

Are  sold  by  tale,  and  scholars  grope 

Deciphering  the  intent  and  scope 

Of  a  dead  tongue,  whose  alphabet 

Alone  survives  Time's  tireless  fret. 


Where  the  full  granaries,  Egypt's  boast, 

Whose  yoked,  unfed,  unnumbered  host, 

Reared  pyramids  where  despots  rot, 

Their  glories,  even  their  names,  forgot. 

The  mummy,  waiting  banished  soul, 

For  fuel  serves  in  lieu  of  coal. 

The  naked  fellah  bakes  his  bread 

With  fierce  Sesostris'  shaven  head  ; 

O'er  lands  that  oozed  with  wine  and  oil 

Crawls  thro'  the  reeds  the  crocodile  ; 

Millions  of  bones  stare  from  the  sands 

Where  desolated  Memphis  stands, 

And  never  human  footstep  falls 

Thro'  her  stone  forests,  where  their  thralls 

Who  owned  them — burden  bearing — lashed  — 


Persia,  Greece.  45 


Their  bitter  teeth  in  anguish  gnashed. 
The  teeming  Nile  spreads  his  broad  flood, 
Where  hundred-gated  Thebais  stood, 
And  saw  a  myriad  educate 
For  human  slaughter,  throng  each  gate. 


What  now  Persepolis,  Persia's  vaunt  ? 
Lean,  yelping  jackals  nightly  haunt 
The  palaces,  where  Satraps  stored 
The  glittering  plunder  of  the  sword. 
Her  serf-cut  sculptures  tell  the*  tale 
Of  Xerxes'  grandeur,  and  bewail 
His  fate  to  wandering  Wahabees, 
Whose  vacant  eyes  their  colors  please. 
The  solitary  herdsman  calls 
His  flock  'neath  her  dismantled  walls. 
Each  in  his  fellow  sees  a  foe, 
And  none  can  reap,  where  none  dare  sow. 


What  now  grand   Greece,  whence    Freedom's 

swords 

Drove  Xerxes'  enervated  hordes  ; 
The  world  learned  at  Thermopylae 
How  freemen  dare  for  liberty. 
But  what  she  claimed  she  never  gave, 
And  Athens  saw  the  shrinking  slave 
Strain  'neath  the  lash,  to  rear  each  stone 
Built  in  her  peerless  Parthenon. 
Sparta  was  dyed  in  Helots'  blood, 
Serfs  of  the  state  they  furnished  food. 
To  deck  Diana's  shrine  with  gold 
The  ship-wrecked  mariner  was  sold  ; 


46  Crreece  —  her  punishment. 

By  fettered  men  the  oars  were  plied 
That  drove  her  galleys  thro'  the  tide, 
With  Persian  corses  clogged,  when  peace, 
At  Salamis,  was  won  for  Greece. 
The  lips,  on  which  persuasion  sat, 
Spoke  but  of  war,  and  breathed  of  hate, 
In  language  that  no  differ  knew 
Between  a  foreigner  and  foe. 

The  beauties  now  of  Phidian  frieze 
Round  eyes  of  staring  cockneys  please. 
The  proud  Acropolis  is  bare  ; 
Greece  knows  not  what  its  glories  were. 
Her  sunny  fields  brigands  infest, 
Her  sterile  coasts  her  crimes  attest ; 
Sharp  knavery,  her  merchants'  code, 
'Till  Greek  is  synonym  of  Fraud. 
Her  virgins,  sold  to  Turkish  lust, 
Valued  by  skin,  hair,  eyes,  and  bust, 
Grow  fat  in  shame,  for  God  is  just. 
Her  pirates,  driven  from  her  seas, 
Collect  her  revenues,  and  squeeze 
Her  peasants  with  a  tax  tenfold, 
By  labor  swelled,  its  worth  in  gold. 
The  scanty  harvest  of  the  poor, 
Dragged  to  the  district  threshing  floor 
Across  a  roadless  land,  must  wait 
The  pleasure  of  the  careless  State. 
T'  inspect  his  weary  flail,  and  toll, 
The  grains  that  bind  his  doltish  soul 
To  the  dwarfed  body,  which  must  lie 
Beside  its  heap  with  sleepless  eye, 


Rome  — past  and  present.  47 

Lest  its  weak  link,  to  future  pain, 
All  swell  tax-farming  pirate's  gain. 
Her  statesmen,  with  a  mallet  yell, 
Praise  of  the  worthless  throne  they  sell 
To  bidding  kinglings,  who  aspire 
Its  squalid  glory  to  acquire. 
Avenging,  and  remorseless  Time, 
Her  splendors  has  resolved  to  slime. 


Fierce  Rome,  Earth's  plunderer,  who  fed 
Her  savage  mob  with  blood  and  bread. 
("  Panem  ac  circenses!"  her  gift 
To  corraled  Wolves  of  Labor's  thrift, 
Whose  joy  shrieked  as  the  uplifted  thumb, 
Spent  gladiators  sent  their  doom.) 
Whose  epicures  in  slave-fed-fish 
For  jaded  taste  found  grateful  dish, 
E'en  for  the  Augustan  table  fit, 
Where  Horace  smiled  at  Virgil's  wit. 
Whose  usurer  and  conqueror 
Alike  proscribed  as  triumvir, 
And  joined  hands  red  with  Cicero's  gore. 
From  whose  yoke  Earth  gave  no  retreat 
To  him  who  fled  from  Caesar's  hate. 
Who  warred  for  Triumph  or  caprice, 
Who  deserts  spread,  and  called  it  peace. 
The  seven-hilled  city's  wondrous  strength 
Met  Justice'  shriveling  sword  at  length, 
Became  Earth's  prey,  a  dismal  den, 
Her  gardens  drowned  in  marsh  and  fen, 
Whence  drowsy  shepherds  homeward  creep, 
Nor  dare  in  lethal  fogs  to  sleep. 


48  Rome  — past  and  present. 

And  her  dried  skin  in  anguish  yet 
Doles  drop  by  drop  her  dreadful  debt. 

The  temples,  whence  each  Caesar's  ghost 

Was  to  the  constellations  tossed, 

The  stones  of  Nero's  "  House  of  Gold," 

The  arches  which  her  vict'ries  told, 

By  Labor,  shiv'ring,  scourged,  and  starved, 

With  chisels,  dropping  blood,  were  carved. 

Time  waits  and  smiles  as  they  become 

The  quarries  of  priest-governed  Rome, 

And  piled  in  Peter's  spreading  dome, 

Their  soul-benumbing  shadow  falls 

On  baser  race,  Religion's  thralls  ; 

As  each  assassin  with  his  beads 

Wins  pardon  his  stiletto  needs  ; 

And  Murder  buys  indulgence  where 

Aqua  Tofana  makes  an  heir, 

To  estates  in  which  a  pope  can  share. 

Where  millions  laughed  when  Caesar  smiled, 
And  hailed  him  God,  who  man  defiled, 
Shaved  monks  like  apparitions  glide, 
And  beggars  point  their  sores  with  pride 
To  wanderers  from  far  Thule, 
Who  flout  and  jeer  the  scabbed  display. 
Ave  Maria!  swarming  knaves 
Whine  drearily  in  dismal  staves 
To  dim-eyed  Superstition's  slaves  ; 
Eunuchs  are  made,  and  trained,  and  priced, 
To  sing  the  praise  of  risen  Christ. 
The  sweet-voiced  tenor  chants  his  note 


Rome  —  papal  rule.  49 

Of  worship  from  a  beardless  throat, 
To  please  a  brood  for  discord  bred, 
With  hearts  of  flame,  and  heads  of  lead. 

A  pantaloon,  infallible, 

Squeaks  answer  to  Italia's  yell 

For  banishment  of  monkish  rule, 

For  Railroad,  Telegraph,  and  School, 

For  Code,  for  Press  ;  for  Gas,  a  grant. 

"  Possumus  non!"  "  We  can't !  we  can't !  " 

And  in  dog-Latin,  fulminates, 

Damnation  at  the  base  ingrates 

To  whom  the  Commune  yields  a  hope 

That  Man  may  live  without  a  pope. 

'Till  hate  of  the  gross  incubus, 

Was  voiced  in  cheers  unanimous, 

As  brutal  Savoy  from  the  throne 

Of  Peter  pushed  the  doting  drone. 

Who,  pauper  of  the  world,  for  alms 

Stretches  afar  his  withered  palms  ; 

Of  every  Biddy  begs,  and  frowns 

If  Peter's  pence  are  spent  for  gowns. 

While  seventy  princes,  clothed  in  red, 

Who  're  by  his  pious  begging  fed, 

Find  a  new  Apis — when  the  old — 

A  state-show,  stinks,  in  cloth  of  gold  ; 

And  as  a  Saint,  in  fcetor  fills 

Their  treasury  with  miracles. 

Rome  wastes  mankind,  as  tho'  a  sun 
Of  solid  ice  around  them  spun 
In  daily  circuit,  show'ring  dearth 
On  the  inhabitable  earth. 


50  Her  priests  avenge  her  crimes. 

Life,  glooming  by  the  frozen  hearts 
Who  sell  salvation  in  her  marts. 
Weaned  on  her  wolf-milk,  every  priest 
For  human  blood  has  wolfish  taste. 
To-day  'twould  dribble  down  their  throats, 
Had  Man  not  scared  the  foul  cayotes, 
Till  now,  tails  down,  they  stand  and  bark ; 
And  Czar's  and  Kaiser's  hellish  work, 
They  sanctify  by  long-drawn  wails, 
Which  float  upon  the  shuddering  gales 
Of  breezy  thought,  to  fright  the  age, 
Back  to  their  dismal  tutelage. 

O  !  Toilers,  know,  'neath  every  cowl, 
Th'  assassin  of  Man-loving  soul, 
Such  power  have  still  the  manes  of  slaves, 
In  Hades,  that  these  greasy  knaves, 
Yet  'venge  them  on  the  realms  of  Rome, 
God's  grant  to  Toil,  now  Labor's  tomb. 

Foul  Spain  who  o'er  a  virgin  world, 

Her  grim  cross-bearing  rapers  hurled, 

While  Europe,  cowering,  dismayed, 

In  her  the  power  of  gold  obeyed, 

Must  long  in  misery  atone, 

The  crimes  of  sullen  Philip's  throne. 

No  brush  could  paint,  no  tongue  could  tell, 

The  horrors  of  that  earthly  Hell ; 

When   Greed  and  Creed  like  leashed  hounds 

howled, 

The  dirge  of  thought  o'er  lands  befouled, 
By  wafer-God,  from  jeweled  pyx, 


The  sins  of  Spain.  51 

Wielding  his  blood-stained  crucifix  ; 

For  such  God  glad  Loyola  toiled, 

As  smoke  of  burning  flesh  denied 

The  realm  whose  highest  politics, 

Roasted  or  racked  her  heretics. 

For  whom  death  penitence  was  sport, 

Since  God  his  victims  could  assort, 

Could  salve  with  bliss  the  Faith- wronged  stake, 

And  cure  with  heaven  the  court's  mistake, 

Suspicion  merits  death,  let  Christ 

Select  his  own,  if  sacrificed. 

Unhealed  to-day,  the  hideous  scars, 
Of  unrelenting  Alva's  wars, 
Upon  whose  creed-directed  path, 
His  fellows  lay,  as  grass  in  swath  ; 
When  wide  Germania,  moaning,  felt 
Hell's  "  Real  Presence  "  as  he  knelt, 
With  swart  apostles  dyed  in  red, 
Before  a  bit  of  mouldy  bread; 
While  jungled  villages,  life-stilled, 
With  tamer,  gleaning  wolves  were  filled, 

When  Carib  ghosts  their  woes  rehearse, 

Hades'  swoln  throat  still  vomits  curse ; 

What  fiend  hangs  not  his  head  in  shame, 

At  Cortez'  or  Pizarro's  name, 

And  flies  not  when  the  cross  he  sees, 

To  which  they  bent  their  blood-plashed  knees  ; 

The  venomed  hate,  that  filled  the  hearts 

Of  countless  serfs,  its  fangs  imparts, 


52  The  nobility  of  Spain. 

To  every  grain  her  brigand  sword 
As  tribute  in  her  coffers  poured. 
Each  doubloon  its  own  plague  conveyed, 
While  loyal  conscience  labor  flayed. 

Nature,  the  Spaniard  gave,  in  vain, 

For  all  that's  low,  and  mean, — disdain — 

A  magnanimity  unfelt 

By  German,  Saxon,  Frank  or  Celt. 

Courage  that  from  Saguntum's  siege 

To  Saragossa,  kept  its  edge. 

The  patience  which  thro'  centuries 

Of-  bitter  conflict  won  release, 

Of  blood-soaked  soil  from  savage  Moor, 

And  inch  by  inch  destroyed  his  power. 

Gave  forethought,  skill,  and  abstinence, 

Gave  fancy,  wit,  and  eloquence, 

Poured  streams  of  gold  from  worlds  unknown, 

That  knew  no  ebb,  around  his  throne. 

Gave  vine-clad  mountain,  sunny  plain, 

And  valleys  crowned  with  waving  grain. 

Faster  than  toil  could  make  repair, 
Power's  brutal  hand  destroyed  by  war  ; 
Deemed  profit  won  by  partizan, 
Cheaper  than  the  slow  artizan. 
O'er  every  gift,  Creed  trailed  her  slime, 
Till  soil  was  sand,  and  thought  a  crime. 
From  strength  to  weakness,  then  decay, 
And  Spain  bemoans  her  vanished  sway. 
As  Holland's  marshes  jeer  her  frown, 
And  spit  upon  her  tonsured  crown  ; 


Her  debasement  ly  Law.  53 

The  world  that  trembled  at  her  name, 
Now  scoffs  derision  at  her  shame. 

Now  her  Hidalgos  shirtless,  strut, 
In  threadbare  cloak  with  hungry  gut, 
And  skilled  to  improvise  a  sob, 
Whine  beggars,  when  afraid  to  rob. 
Behold  her  lovers,  'neath  the  stars, 
Thrumming  their  battered,  old  guitars, 
Who,  ere  their  senoritas  catch 
The  ribald  tune,  must  stop  to  scratch. 

There  see  each  burly,  ragged  priest, 
His  ears  on  fornication  feast, 
As  weekly,  his  confessor's  chair, 
Penance  commands  of  parrot  prayer, 
To  every  smiling  devotee, 
Who  pardon  craves  on  bended  knee, 
Thus  balancing  the  last  week's  sins, 
As  Sunday,  new  account  begins. 

There  Lust  and  Murder,  hand  in  hand, 
For  marriage  at  the  altar  stand  ; 
And  Sacrilege  and  Simony, 
Incest  with  blessings  sanctify. 
For  royal  purple  no  stain  shows, 
Of  dagger  gouts  or  cicisbos  ; 
There  justice  finds  decree  by  dice, 
Unless  her  purse  contains  its  price  ; 
There  thieves  are  bred  in  every  cot ; 
The  cross  that  marks  the  unholy  spot, 


54  Spanish  brutality. 


Withered  by  homicidal  blight, 

Meets  everywhere,  to  shock,  the  sight. 

The  Church  in  lousy  pomp  allied, 
With  Ignorance,  Laziness,  and  Pride, 
Dreams  in  its  dotage  to  regain 
Dominion  over  thinking  brain  ; 
And  dates  her  senile  pastoral, 
From  friar-thronged  Escurial, 
(The  only  place  where  priests  make  show, 
Of  angel  feathers,  here  below  ; 
Of  Holy  Coats,  they've  thirty-seven, 
Each,  by  the  sorry  soldier  given, 
Who  won  it,  when  he  doublets  diced, 
Below  the  cross  of  bleeding  Christ. 
Three  different  skulls  of  Peter  share, 
Devotion's  gift,  and  bigot's  prayer, 
But  only  on  th'  Escurial's  roost, 
A  moulting  angel,  feathers  lost.) 
To  her  queer  sheep  who,  brutal,  coarse, 
With  frenzied  happiness  are  hoarse, 
From  yelling  their  insane  delight, 
Where  bulls  and  men,  unequal,  fight. 

« 

A  bloodhound-muzzled  ovine  flock, 
Brain-poisoned  with  the  milk  they  suck, 
Stilled  in  the  breasts  of  priest-rid  dams, 
To  nourish  yelping,  lapping  lambs, 
Bull-necked  with  narrow,  shallow  eyes  — 
The  Spaniard's  every  feature  lies ; 
If  now  a  Heaven-enjoying  Cain 
Is  not  the  patron  saint  of  Spain ; 


Great  Britain..  55 


Tho'  travelers  of  the  splendors  prate 
And  faded  glories  of  the  state  — 
Ev'n  while  they  of  th'  Alhambra  tell, 
It  dwells  in  memory  as  a  smell. 

Of  all  the  nations,  she  the  last  — 

Still  ruled  by  creed,  controlled  by  caste, 

Drives  Man  to  market, —  hopeful  reads, 

While  Blackburn  for  the  "  Lost  Cause"  pleads, 

As  Don  Quixote,  in  a  gown, 

Dictates  her  law,  and  trades  her  crown, 

While  Sancho  Panza's  garlicked  throat 

Hoarse  bawls  its  lesson,  conned  by  rote  : 

"  To  Amadeus,  blight  and  doom  ! 

Hail  to  Alphonzo  !   Welcome  home  !  " 


Behold,  to-day,  for  Britain's  sin, 
Ker"Mene,  Tekel,  Upharzin;" 
Her  vaults  far  richer  harvests  yield 
Than  Toil  can  win  from  well-tilled  field ; 
Each  ship  that  leaves  her  chalk-cliffed  coast 
Bears  freight  of  Labor's  famished  host ; 
As  though  her  body  from  each  pore 
Spurted  her  blood  to  every  shore, 
Out-driven  by  the  dreadful  weight 
Imposed  on  Labor  by  the  State. 

There,  those  who  shared  each  other's  lot, 
And  hand  in  hand  with  hunger  fought, 
Long,  dragging  years,  till  weak,  and  frail, 
They're  herded  in  the  paupers'  jail  — 


56  English  "  Poor  Laws ." 

Whom  God  in  love  together  joined, 
The  workhouse  laws  asunder  rend ; 
And  moaning  age,  unaided,  crawls 
Thro'  the  infirmary's  whitewashed  walls, 
To  lay  his  thin,  dishonored  locks 
At  rest  in  "  lowest  contract "  box, 
While  "  discipline  "  the  prayer  denies 
Of  sobbing  child,  to  close  his  eyes ; 
So,  till  they  rot,  in  dumb  despair 
The  old  worn  balls  all-tearless,  stare 
By  myriads  through  their  sprinkled  mould, 
In  horror,  at  the  God  of  Gold. 

Thus  British  law  improves  the  plan 
To  which  want  drives  the  Bojesman, 
Who,  burdened  by  his  helpless  sire, 
Leaves  him  in  solitude  expire, 
Where  water-pot  and  mumbled  crust 
May  guard  and  mark  his  bleaching  dust. 

There  single  rooms  with  tenants  swarm, 

Whom  factories  stunt  and  mines  deform, 

Herded  like  beasts,  as  void  of  shame, 

Menageries,  by  hunger  tame, — 

There  babes  are  dropped  in  straw  that  reeks 

With  incest,  as  he  nightly  licks 

The  turgid  lips  of  poisoned  gin, 

Conscious  of  lust,  but  not  of  kin, 

To  fight  for  life  with  hopeless  tug 

At  fever's  cracked  and  burning  dug. 

There,  while  a  million  ladies  pine, 
Unwilling  celibates,  the  wine 


England's  hopeless  poverty.  57 

Of  love,  refused  their  drouth-parched  lips, 
For  each  an  humbler  sister  slips, 
And,  bastard  nursing,  spends  her  life, 
Mistress  for  him  who  spurns  a  wife, 
Who,  bred  to  luxuries,  would  efface 
Love  with  a  parasite's  embrace ; 
For  there  machinery  has  destroyed 
The  helpmate's  business ;   unemployed, 
The  social  drone  can  never  wed, 
Save  when  her  dowry  buys  the  bed. 

There  life-long  toil,  by  skillful  hand, 

Can  not  attain  a  rood  of  land ; 

For  workmen's  needs  their  wage  exceed, 

And  famine  daily  wars  with  greed  ; 

While  statesmen  strive  to  lull  their  cries 

For  justice  by  that  LIE  OF  LIES, 

"  The  Interests  of  Capital, 

And  Labor,  are  identical," 

And  hush  them  with  the  horrid  food 

Of  wretched  India's  transfused  blood, 

Whose  rice-fed  millions  die  in  shoals, 

Like  fish  whose  stream  a  factory  fouls ; 

And  taxed  to  limit,  problem  solve 

How  little  man  can  eat  and  live, 

By  earning  just  enough  to  starve 

On  what  is  left,  when  usurers  carve. 

That  England  better  may  endure 

The  curse  of  primogeniture, 

Her  trampling  hosts  o'er  Asia  tread, 

And  younger  sons  her  empire  spread. 


58  Her  system  of  domestic  war. 

There  laws  are  framed,  'neath  which  the  poor 
All  pauperism's  weight  endure ; 
For  Capital  evades  the  u  rate," 
Demolishing  the  plowman's  hut ; 
So  trudging  Toil's  long  day  is  broke 
To  get  his  neck  in  Labor's  yoke. 

There  hoar  oaks  thrive  on  fertile  sod, 
Withheld  from  Man  by  legal  fraud, 
Whose  titles  spring  from  Norman  yell 
Of  victory  !  when  Harold  fell. 
There  broad  desmesnes  support  the  state, 
That  frowns  on  Famine  at  its  gate  ; 
And  Man's  lords  dwell  in  pride  so  high 
They  can  not  hear  their  fellows  cry. 

Thro'  every  street,  beneath  the  lamps, 
Thro'  every  lane,  War,  stealthy,  tramps ; 
When  each  man  fortifies  his  house, 
War  only  waits  for  his  carouse. 

What  tho'  her  Banker  dictates  where 
War's  widow-stunning  trump  shall  blare, 
And  what  tho'  bayonet  dare  not  shine. 
Beyond  his  office  map's  faint  line, 
Who  in  Threadneedle  pulls  the  strings 
That  move,  and  twirl  earth's  puppet  kings  ; 
And  shakes  his  web  in  Mammon's  den 
To  catch  a  fly  in  far  Japan. 
Though  in  her  lap  all  nations  pour 
Their  wealth — from  every  clime  and  shore  ; 


Her  decadence.  59 


Tho'  on  all  waves  her  flag's  unfurled, 
Gathering  her  tribute  from  the  world  ; 
Tho'  half  mankind  her  brood  obey, 
Subservient  to  her  grinding  sway ; 

Yet  feels  she  thro'  her  bloated  frame 
Nemesis'  cancer's  subtle  flame, 
Dire  poisons  thro'  her  vitals  pour 
And  sap  the  sources  of  her  power  ; 
While  wider,  richer,  grows  her  mart, 
Weaker,  and  feebler,  throbs  her  heart. 
The  strong-armed  race  that  bent  the  yew, 
That  Agincourt  and  Cressy  knew, 
Degenerate  into  wages  slaves, 
Reel,  gin-fed,  to  their  pauper  graves. 
Sepoys,  and  Sikhs  her  conquests  spread, 
St.  George  but  prances  at  their  head. 

Not  all  her  gold  to-day  could  raise 

A  regiment  of  Highland  Greys, 

Like  that  which,  thro'  the  long  June  day, 

At  Waterloo  all  patient  la}', 

Firm,  as  if  on  a  dress  parade, 

While  thro'  its  ranks  Death  wanton  played, 

As  hurtling  hurricanes  of  lead 

Aligned  the  living  on  the  dead. 

Till,  at  the  muttered  order  "  Close," 

The  breathing  wall  in  silence  rose, 

Its  clanned  and  tartaned  square  reformed ; 

Tho'  at  each  gap  a  squadron  stormed, 

Like  foam  against  a  cliff,  it  met 

The  dripping  Highland  bayonet, 


60  Her  land  system. 


And,  wildly  plunging,  rolled  in  dust, 

At  its  mail-piercing,  sinewy  thrust. 

Nor  moved,  each  heart  with  rage  aflame, 

'Till  the  shrill  pibroch's  signal  came, 

And  Gaelic  ears  caught  Gael's  tune, 

"  Charge  !   Claymores,   Charge !  "   the  battle's 

won. 

Then  War  first  saw  the  Old  Guard  reel — 
Its  leaders  spitted  on  their  steel — 
Then  War  first  saw  the  Old  Guard  fly, 
When  to  resist  was  but  to  die. 
"  Sauve  que  peut!"  its  hopeless  shout, 
Retreat  borne  headlong  into  rout. 

The  lands  that  nourished  heroes  then 

Are  now  too  dear  for  breeding  men  ; 

And  lonely  shepherds  herd  their  flocks 

On  Caledonia's  heathery  rocks. 

The  cabins  of  her  bravest  race 

No  more  her  shelt'ring  glens  deface — 

Eviction  levelled  them  in  dust — 

And  Mammon  cried,  "  It  pays,  'tis  just !  " 

By  Norman  law  the  Suzerain 
Is  granted  fee  of  clan's  domain  ; 
Altho'  since  Scotland  knew  her  name, 
The  tribes  of  Alpin,  Loughlin,  Graeme, 
Each,  as  a  family,  tilled  its  land — 
A  little  nation  each,  a  band, — 
Welded  by  common  sympathies, 
And  knit  by  sacred  memories. 
By  all  traditions  a  Commune, 


Man  driven  from  Scotland  by  sheep.  61 

Which  stored  for  all  what  each  had  grown, 

And  never  knew  a  hungry  man 

Shame  the  full  gran'ries  of  a  clan. 

They  had  no  parchments — they  were  there 

Before  a  will  confessed  an  heir ; 

There  long  before  a  peer  was  known, 

A  feudal  law,  or  royal  throne  ; 

A  strong,  earth-conquering,  stalwart  race, 

Before  a  pen  was  taught  to  trace 

A  deed — the  devil's  formula, 

For  wealth's  increase,  and  Man's  decay. 

And  who  could  better  title  have 

Than  his  great  grandsire's  grandsire's  grave  ? 

Now  Sutherland's  gaunt  beldame  sits, 

Countess  and  dutch  ess,  wrapped  in  writs, 

Between  whose  lines  their  fate  is  read  ; 

Who,  driven  from  hearth,  and  home,  have  fled 

By  thousands  from  a  kingdom,  where 

Man  dies  and  leaves  a  sheep  to  heir 

The  lands,  by  his  forefathers  plowed, 

By  judges  stolen,  for  the  proud, 

Degenerate  race  of  peers  that  springs 

From  loins  of  patriarchal  kings. 

Now  bobbin-winding  serfs  parade 
As  guards  of  gold  that's  won  by  trade ; 
And  little,  bow-legged  weavers  drill 
For  what  they  eat,  and  what  they  swill. 
While  veterans  from  Rotten-row, 
Whose  cherubimic  whiskers  flow 
Beyond  their  shoulders,  hours  amuse, 


62  Her  heroes  extinct. 

That  can  be  spared  from  park  reviews, 

Teaching  Falstaffian  recruits 

Which  end  to  hold,  and  which  end  shoots. 

And  she,  whose  dauntless  hearts  of  oak 
Freed  Europe  from  Napoleon's  yoke  ; 
Whose  volleying  thunders  answer  roared 
Each  threat'ning  gleam  of  despot's  sword, 
Queen  regnant  of  the  emerald  main 
Which  spread  a  rolling  purpled  plain, 
As  o'er  its  waves  her  vengeful  fleets 
Strewed  victories,  nor  knew  defeats, 
Now  only  in  a  bomb-proof  sails 
Manned  from  her  overflowing  jails  ; 
And  now,  nor  rank,  nor  Westminster, 
Its  captain's  placid  pulses  stir. 

In  her,  the  palace,  built  on  loom 

Affords  a  middle  class  no  room ; 

A  nation's  trunk,  whose  fibrous  life 

With  energy  and  skill  is  rife, 

While  paupers  and  aristocrats, 

Upon  it  thrive  as  parasites ; 

Whose  verdure  drains  its  vital  force, 

Until  their  tendrils  clasp  its  corse, 

That  class  extinct,  the  womb  is  dried, 

Whence  heroes  sprang,  her  wars  to  guide ; 

And  she,  who  Olive  and  Nelson  bred, 

Now  casts  a  larger  gun,  instead, 

And  past  child-bearing,  trusts  to  plate, 

The  fortunes  of  the  senile  State. 


All  nations  her  enemies.  63 

All  nations  tugging  at  the  draught, 

Of  Mammon's  ponderous  Juggernaut, 

His  victim  his  best  devotee, 

His  Aceldama,  Jubilee, 

Slowly,  but  surely  rolls  his  wheel ; 

Over  Earth's  proudest  commonweal. 

So  now,  the  Queen  of  Ocean  lies, 

A  mass  of  blubber,  luscious  prize, 

For  shark  and  sword-fish,  who  but  wait, 

Till  patient  Time  has  spelled  her  date  ; 

Now,  from  the  dense  chaotic  glooms, 

Wrapping  in  murky  night,  the  tombs 

Of  Empires  who  betrayed  their  Trust, 

She  hears  the  call,  "  Come,  Rot  with  us !  " 

If  gold  were  strength,  and  Man  refuse ; 
Were  heroes  generate  in  stews ; 
Could  eunuch  voices  ring  war's  cheer ; 
Dared  dancers  welcome  Honor's  bier  ; 
Belshazzar  might  have  shored  his  wall, 
Nor  feared  God's  handwrite  in  his  hall. 


Here,  where  Earth's  exiles  refuge  sought, 
From  serfdom's  chill  and  cheerless  lot. 
Where  States,  plebeian  founded,  won 
Legal  Equality  for  man, 
And  where  with  mother's  milk  we  drank, 
Hatred  of  Kings,  and  dread  of  rank. 
The  choicest  lands  of  Labor's  zone, 
Where  Nature's  lavish  hands  have  strewn. 
In  myriad  forms,  the  countless  store 
That  won  from  soil,  and  wrought  from  ore. 


64  America  degenerate. 

Where,  what  the  people  will,  they  can, 
By  keeping  step  to  Freedom's  van. 

Here,  we,  degenerate  and  enslaved, 
Betray  the  race,  whose  valor  saved 
God's  charter  from  the  despot's  rage, 
And  traced  in  blood  on  History's  page, 
Man's  absolute  Nature-founded  Right 
To  Life,  to  Liberty,  to  light 
CJpon  his  path,  in  slow  pursuit 
Of  Happiness,  the  normal  fruit 
Of  equal  law,  in  justice  framed, 
By  which,  alone,  Ambition's  tamed ; 
We  desecrate  our  Fathers'  graves, 
And  heirs  of  men,  are  sires  of  slaves, 
For  now  by  law  we  generate 
The  pauper  and  aristocrat. 

Here  Law  herself  grows  lawless,  breeds 

Corruption,  sows  the  pest'lent  seeds 

Of  crime,  broadcast.     Incurable 

Such  State  must  be ;  for  what  can  heal 

The  fell  disease  the  healer  spreads, 

Who  with  th'  apothecary  beds  ? 

Law-makers  are  law-breakers ;  sneers 

The  legislator  meets  who  fears 

His  conscience.     Rings  consort  with  Rings; 

In  sunshine  brawling  Bribery  flings 

Aside  concealment,  only  Shame 

Meets  purse  too  weak  "  to  work  its  claim." 

In  curule  chair,  now  Luxury  lolls, 

With  checks  "  electioneering  "  polls. 


Party  spirit  her  bane.  65 

Exposure  has  no  dread  ;  forgot 
To-day's  theft  in  to-morrow's  plot. 
The  Servants  of  the  people  bow 
Before  King  Caucus  ;  every  brow 
Is  stamped  with  party ;  every  vote 
Must  party  interest  promote. 
Aye  Cataline's  fierce  retinue 
Again  with  blood  of  serfs  imbrue 
The  hands  of  traitors,  as  they  meet 
In  secret  conclave  to  concrete 
Into  one  will  one  hundred  minds, 
By  oath,  that  each  to  party  binds. 

Yazoo  democracy  asserts 

Its  kin  to  "Caucus."     Who  deserts 

Or  one,  or  other  may  invite 

His  funeral.     From  Yazoo,  flight 

Prolongs  his  day  ;  but  Caucus-doomed, 

From  politics  his  life's  inhumed ; 

And  unanimity  is  taught 

By  Sumner  shelved,  or  Dixon  shot. 

Here  Mammon  grasps  Man's  broad  domain, 
Which  happy  millions  might  sustain, 
And  while  a  venal  Congress  gloats 
Over  the  bonds  it  earns  by  votes, 
Despite  his  wordy,  helpless  rage, 
Fraud  peddles  Labor's  heritage, 
Entrenched  behind  the  purchased  law, 
In  which  our  Courts  can  find  no  flaw. 

How  think  you  Crilly  feels  to  hear 
His  old  age  sentenced  to  despair ; — 


66  Her  Land-law  at  war  with  Nature. 

Who  hand  to  hand,  with  Nature  fought. 
Who,  five  and  twenty  long  years  wrought, 
And  on  a  tract  that  no  man  claimed, 
The  prairie  broke,  and  forest  tamed, 
Till  yellow,  rustling  harvests  spread 
Behind  his  soil-subduing  tread, 
And  rick,  and  corn-crib,  barn,  and  stack 
Sprang  brimmed  with  food  upon  his  track ; 
Whose  household  gods,  from  happy  hearth, 
Filled  all  his  living  room  with  mirth 
At  thought  of  poverty  or  dearth, — 
To  know  that  by  a  Railroad  grant 
He's  thrown  from  affluence  to  want  ? 

What  Law,  but  Mammon's  dare  expel, 
By  precedent  of  Jezebel, 
Him,  who  God's  title  pled  in  Court, 
To  hear  it  made  a  judge's  sport. 
His  title  's  Man's,  of  older  date 
Than  any  law,  or  any  State, 
Who  occupies  shall  have  the  use  — 
All  other  title's  sheer  abuse, — 
For  as  Man  lives  by  air  and  earth, 
Monopoly  results  in  dearth. 
For  as  Man  lives  by  earth  and  air, 
His  needs  and  use  should  shape  his  share. 
If  yet  on  Earth  reigns  Naboth's  God, 
The  dogs  will  lick  that  Judge's  blood. 

Here,  where  man's  wrath,  and  woman's  tears, 
Thro'  slow-drawn,  agonizing  years, 
Formed  the  strong  solvent  which  dissolved 


Escape  from  Moloch's  den  to  Mammon's  cave.     67 

The  law-made  fetters  that  involved 

Swart  Labor's  limbs,  and  brutified 

The  image  of  the  living  God ; 

To  rend  fierce  Moloch's  fiery  tower, 

And  pluck  Toil's  children  from  his  power, 

Insensate,  Mammon's  help  we  prayed, 

Who  lent,  for  Usury,  his  aid. 

But  poor  advance  can  Freedom  boast, 

If  Mammon  gained  what  Moloch  lost, 

The  fiend  still  juggles  with  her  hopes, 

Thro'  legal  jungles,  blind  she  gropes, 

And  dimly  sees,  in  dumb  amaze, 

The  many  sink,  the  few  to  raise. 

Now,  shoddy-bred  patricians  wield 

For  gain,  the  force  that  all  should  shield. 

Flaunting  in  spoils  of  legal  crime, 

As  Money,  put  to  bed  with  Time. 

Breeds  its  curst  "  profit ; "  feeds  the  sons 

Of  sweat-despising,  civ'lized  Huns, — 

A  horde  of  broadclothed  brutes,  obscene, 

Trampling  the  fields  that  Toil  should  glean — 

Whilst  he,  a  filthy  Tramp  becomes, 

And  Labor  rots  in  stinking  slums — 

If  Freemen  lose  what  Slaves  have  gained, 

'Tis  wasted  blood  our  flag  has  stained. 


As  a  meek  ass,  with  wool  for  load, 
When  driven  thro'  the  rising  flood, 
Feels  on  his  back  the  increasing  weight, 
And  wonders  that  it  grows  so  great, 


68  Her  labor  rolled  ly  her  creditors 

So  patient,  doited  Labor  feels 
The  growing  burden  in  his  creels, 

Nor  understands  that  cunning  scheme 
Which,  like  a  lying  prophet's  dream, 
At  first  sight,  to  appearance  true, 
But  false  as  Hell,  on  after  view, 
Which,  by  a  mortgage,  wealth  creates, 
And  by  their  debts  enriches  States, 
By  which  the  loans,  in  paper  made, 
For  War's  demands,  in  gold  are  paid. 
As  values  fall,  and  dollars  rise, 
Each  bond  is  swelled  to  three-fold  size. 
Since  swindling  Mammon  doled  her  coins, 
To  aid  the  Nation  gird  her  loins. 

Now,  when  the  tripled  usury  drains 
Life  from  the  Nation's  shriveled  veins, 
And  enterprise  and  industry 
Are  clothed  in  shame  and  poverty, 
The  leeches,  who,  by  suction  great, 
Thrive  but  t'  impoverish  the  State  ; 
Who  pay  no  tax,  who  raise  no  grain, 
Who  drive  no  loom,  who  push  no  plane, 
Whose  sordid  brows  were  never  wet 
By  honest  toil,  with  honest  sweat, 
Descent  from  Adam  who  deny, 
And  know  no  law,  but  that  they  buy  ; 
A  breed,  one  single  lesson  learns, 
To  pare  the  nickels  Labor  earns, 
In  fear  that  he  may  drop  his  load, 
Prate  of  his  Honor !  shriek  of  Fraud  ! 


And  by  her  politicians.  69 


And  with  hand-engines  squirt  what  stink 
Can  be  condensed  in  printers'  ink 
At  those  who  dare  his  right  maintain, 
The  water  from  the  wool  to  drain. 


See  Labor,  like  an  old  crow-bait, 
List'ning  his  masters  sage  debate, 
What  space  upon  his  loin  is  left 
Which  may,  by  tax,  be  further  chafed. 
Behold  their  patriotism  pack 
New  pensions  on  the  sorry  hack, 
Who  patient  plodding,  only  gnaws 
His  empty  nose-bag,  and  he-haws 
To  see  the  startling  eagerness, 
With  which  the  country's  goddesses 
Leap  from  the  Treasury,  for  the  heirs 
Of  U.  S.  Mexic  muleteers  — 
Though  by  their  progeny  forgot, 
Remembered  by  the  grateful  State  ; 
Whose  gratitude  so  ardent  glows 
Jogged  by  claim  agents,  that  she  owes 
More  widows,  than  the  soldiers  slain 
Could  have  espoused,  ere  that  campaign  ; 
Though  each  whose  "glory"  found  a  tomb, 
Came  from  much  married  Mormondom, 
And  by  such  snivelling  scores  were  wail'd, 
As  those  to  strong-spined  Brigham  sealed — 
Stretching  his  dreary  mouth  to  bray 
Approval  of  the  wordy  fray, 
As  Conkling's  sneer,  and  Jim  Elaine's  wit, 
Would  from  the  tax-filled  treasury's  tit 


70  America  last  refuge  of  freedom. 

One  unrepentant  traitor  drive, 
While  thousands  worse  upon  it  thrive. 

Here  Labor  finds  his  last  retreat, 

No  refuge  left  if  here  defeat  — 

Despairing  Europe  shivers  still 

As  faintly  Freedom's  pulses  thrill 

Her  manacled  and  nerveless  limbs, 

While  idiot  Toil  all-gleeful  hymns 

Te  Deums  to  a  hating  God, 

Drunk  with  the  stench  of  steaming  blood. 

Crushed  shapeless,  by  the  weight  of  crowns, 

Her  struggles  but  increase  her  wounds. 

There  peace  goes  armed,  and  war's  content 

To  see  his  empire  permanent, 

Content  with  annual  holocaust 

Of  Conscript  Labor  to  exhaust 

The  Stock  of  Manhood,  dwarfed,  deformed, 

By  taxes  fed  and  uniformed ; 

For  glory  drilled,  emasculate 

To  love,  for  slaughter  consecrate ; 

While  women  driven  from  the  hearth, 

And  moiled  by  traffic,  quarrel  with  earth 

For  life,  and  masculine  from  need, 

Supply  their  place  and  cease  to  breed. 


Here  Labor  stands,  with  back  to  wall. 
Behind  her  Asia's  hopeless  thrall, 
Whose  limbs  grow  fitted  to  his  chain, 
Whose  dead  nerves  have  lost  sense  of  pain. 
The  basest  form  of  breathing  dust, 


Chinese  question  discussed.  71 


Whose  food  is  vermin,  love  is  lust ; 
Whose  whittled  Joss  his  soul  can  save, 
His  children  goods ;  his  wife,  his  slave  — 
Unnatural  cross  'twixt  sheep  and  lynx, 
Who  dead  is  earthed,  because  he  stinks  ; 
A  leprous  wretch,  damned  in  the  womb, 
Of  manhood's  hopes,  a  living  tomb. 
Ev'n  now,  the  animals  obscene 
Within  your  Golden  Gates  convene, 
Thick  thronging  at  the  greedy  call 
Of  plunder-founded  Capital. 
When  Spanish  grants  were  patented 
By  leagues,  and  thinking  Labor  fled 
Before  Law-made  monopolies 
Under  a  treaty's  thin  disguise. 
Furnished  by  Companies  in  herds, 
Profit  their  selling-price  affords 
The  yellow-buttoned  mandarin, 
Importing  animate  machine, 
Who  now  to  Washington  has  sent 
His  Minister  to  represent, 
To  Labor's  legal  plunderers  there 
The  "profit,"  that  they  too  may  share; 
And  the  wrong  done  Celestial  gold, 
If  coolies  are  no  longer  sold. 

Welcome,  O !  Brothers,  free  Chinese, 
Your  equal  law  must  give  them  peace, 
Each  freeman  to  your  ranks  will  press, 
He  too,  "  pursues  his  happiness." 
But  stem  with  all  your  force  the  waves 
Of  immigrating  Mongol  Slaves, 


72  The  governors  never  free  the  governed. 


Whose  boundless  flood  to  Toil  denies 
His  natural  right  to  living  price. 
Whose  labor's  paid,  their  bones  returned 
To  moulder  in  the  lands  that  spurned 
Their  bodies,  and  would  yield  no  aid 
While  Mammon  on  its  offspring  preyed. 

From  that  dread  tide,  O !  Toilers  shrink  — 
Even  now  you  stand  upon  its  brink ; 
You  must  abjure,  contemn,  deny 
Greed's  law, — "  Demand  begets  Supply  " 
Or  in  the  market  see  your  price 
Quoted  as  other  merchandise. 

From  your  oppressors  hope  no  terms 
Save  such  as  jay-birds  grant  to  worms, 
The  swollen  leech  knows  thirst  unquenched 
Till  from  his  hold  by  force  he's  wrenched. 
Your  blood  can  ne'er  their  palates  pall 
Till  in  their  graves  unfilled  they  fall. 
Greed's  stomach  holds  what  his  teeth  tear  — 
A  shark  won't  vomit  for  a  prayer — 
His  claim  is,  what  he  don't  possess, 
His  Right  is,  what  he  can  oppress  ; 
He  reaps,  where  he  has  never  sown, 
He  gathers  where  he  ne'er  has  strown  ; 
Each  dollar  of  his  ill-got  wealth, 
By  "Profit"  wars  with  "public  health." 

Each  State,  incorporate,  transforms, 

Like  Herod's  body,  food  to  worms, 

And  Death  crawls  thro'  the  "  Means  of  Life,1 


Interest  works  longer  hours  than  Man.          73 

When  Legislation  sanctions  strife, 
'Twixt  brain  and  muscle  earning  bread, 
And  money  by  their  products  fed. 

Greed's  Gold,  like  gnomes  in  haunted  mines, 

Unceasing  works,  new  treasures  finds, 

(For  every  handful  of  his  ore, 

By  Law  yields  annual  profit  more, 

Than  he  will  grant  to  pick  and  drill, 

Though  swung  by  strength  and  driven  by  skill) 

While  Toil  sleeps,  tossing  on  his  straw, 

The  hours  allotted  him  by  law, 

Too  happy,  if  he  can  in  dreams, 

Forsake  his  tired  and  aching  limbs, 

His  rented,  vermin-breeding  home, 

And  thro'  green  fields  and  pastures  roam, 

Until  the  angry  clanging  bell, 

Re-calls  him  to  his  opened  Hell ; 

Then  weary  wakes,  with  heavy  moan, 

To  roll  his  Sisyphaean  stone. 

O  !  Labor  blinded !  Toil,  dull-brained, 
Living  your  sordid  life,  mud-stained, 
Of  petty  aims,  and  abject  fears 
Whose  very  laughter  tells  of  tears. 
As  peasant,  vassal,  wages-slave, 
Hopeless  and  cowed  from  womb  to  grave. 
Ye  groveling  herds,  subdued  by  shams, 
Work-begging,  as  tho'  craving  alms ; 
Whose  long  hours'  toil  for  paltry  wage, 
Mammon  rewards  with  pauper  age  ; 
Deformed  in  limb  and  marred  in  face, 
6 


74  The  fathers  have  eaten  sour  grapes, 

Whose  pleasure's  vice,  whose  thought  is  base, 
Who  by  the  force  of  Mammon's  law, 
Must  yield  your  grain  and  reap  its  straw. 
For  appetite,  you  ne'er  can  sate 
Robbed  of  the  wealth  your  hands  create. 
From  your  long  centuries'-sleep,  Awake  ! 
The  manacles  that  bind  you,  Break ! 
And  laws  that  make  your  wrongs,  their  Right 
Like  phantoms  fade  before  your  might. 

The  uncouth,  formless  weights  that  press, 
With  dead'ning  force  upon  the  mass, 
Hap-hazard  framed  as  Greed  complained, 
Of  Labor's  conquest,  still  ungained, 
Which  for  the  interests  of  the  few, 
By  partial  legislation  grew, 
Till  all  the  wealth  by  Toil  amassed, 
But  broader  builds  the  throne  of  Caste, 
Until  Greed  claims  a  vested  right, 
To  hold  Man's  land,  in  his  despite, 
Product  of  tyranny  and  chance, 
Are  chiefest  hindrance  to  advance. 

Have  so  debased  the  Lord  of  Earth, 
So  crushed  in  him  what  is  of  worth, 
(The  independent  force-full  mind, 
Warmed  by  the  heart  that  loves  its  kind,) 
That  e'en  the  Nomad's  surly  glance 
Is  nobler  than  his  countenance, 
Who  gladly  flees  from  Labor's  huts,  . 
And  in  his  shameless  livery  struts, 
With  sprawling  soul,  from  servant's  hall, 


And  the  children's  teeth  are  set  on  edge.         75 

To  answer  at  his  "  Master's  "  call. 

Sets  on  his  scull's  thick-coating  fat 

Cockaded,  bullet-fitting  hat, 

To  proper  distance  gives  his  thought, 

Subsides  to  walk,  or  urges  trot, 

To  swell  the  prancing  pride  that  jogs 

Before  him,  nearer,  welcoming  dogs, 

Or,  hangs  his  head  on  shoulders  bent, 

And  rounded  less  by  toil  than  rent, 

In  pitiful  humility, 

Before  the  "  man  of  property  " 

Whose  right,  inherited,  exacts 

For  use  of  "Means  of  life,"  a  tax 

For  domicil  upon  an  earth, 

That  owes  its  space  to  every  birth. 

The  record  of  each  nation's  life 
Is  but  a  tale  of  ceaseless  strife, 
'Twixt  those  who  earn  and  would  retain, 
And  those  who  filch  by  law  their  gain. 

Man  in  the  town  confederates — 

The  lord  his  eyrie  abdicates, 

Whence  he  had  swooped  upon  the  road 

To  spoil  the  traveler  of  his  load, 

And  where  he  with  port-cullis  shut 

The  plunder  torn  from  peasant's  hut, 

His  castle  builds  to  fright  the  wall 

Fear  built  to  shield  his  weak-kneed  thrall, 

Then  legal  theft  supplies  his  purse, 

And  cunning  serves  in  lieu  of  force. 


76  Class  legislation 


The  Sovereign  sells  the  right  to  trade, 
Duties  and  tariffs,  ports  blockade, 
States  rob  their  citizens,  whose  grists 
Are  thrice  tolled  by  monopolists, 
Tenths  of  the  farmer's  toil-won  wage 
The  "  Order  "  claims,  its  privilege 
Inherent,  as  the  groaning  earth 
For  noble's  use,  gives  peasants  birth. 
Nations  are  driven,  without  respite, 
To  toil  for  strangers,  proselyte 
By  cross,  firm-hilted  on  the  sword, 
To  add  to  "  Profits  "  waste-won  hoard. 

Why  swollen  revenues  for  a  church 
Should  man  through  legislation  search, 
He  finds  their  reason  in  the  alms, 
Dropped  from  its  griping,  greasy  palms, 
To  men  its  greed  has  pauperized 
By  lands  to  "  pious  use  "  devised 
When  Cowls  around  a  death-bed  stood, 
And  scared  it  with  Saturnian  God. 

See  Valentinian  tax  the  air, 
See  Henry's  favorite  debar 
The  lady  from  her  husband's  bed, 
Until  five  hundred  pullets  paid 
Cohabitation's  price,  assessed 
By  greed  on  weary  Love's  unrest. 

But  how  does  this  to  you  apply  ? 
Man  has  outgrown  such  villainy ! 


Found  in  every  land.  77 

Nay  !  See  your  agues  taxed.     To-day 
See  shivering  fever  mock  dismay 
Of  fainting  poverty,  whose  hearse 
Is  ordered  by  his  scanty  purse, 
As  legal  thieves  "  protection  "  yell, 
And  foreign  Quinia  expel. 

In  every  form  the  wealth  laws  steal, 

Is  wielded  'gainst  the  common  weal. 

Labor's  best  years  are  spent  to  gain 

A  shelter  in  his  own  domain ; 

For  law,  the  progeny  of  feuds, 

Her  deed  upon  his  right  intrudes, 

And  Mammon  squats  upon  the  land, 

By  God,  made  free  for  Labor's  hand, 

And  seams  and  scars  the  gen'rous  soil, 

Till  scowls  from  Earth,  meet  Heaven's  smile, 

With  lines  surveyed,  whose  us^s  serve 

This  man  to  feast,  and  that  to  starve, 

With  hedges  trimmed  to  fend  the  field 

For  griping  Avarice'  puny  child, 

While  Nature's  stalwart  son  must  plod 

With  wistful  eyes  the  dusty  road. 

The  harvests  that  reward  his  toil, 

In  turn  must  yield  to  Mammon  spoil, 

For  law  has  posted  at  his  gate, 

To  clutch  his  profit  with  their  freight ; 

The  railroads  that  he  built,  controlled 

By  Scott,  or  Vanderbilt,  or  Gould, 

Who,  taught  in  "  certain  profit's  "  school, 

Drown  Competition  in  the  "  pool  " — 


78  Labor  robbed  by  her  servants. 

His  fields,  tho'  brimmed  with  golden  freight, 
Barren  to  him  —  they've  fixed  the  "rate." 

Not  all  his  loss  !     How  price  obtain, 

When  in  the  Market  stands  his  grain, 

And  there  his  brother  must  deny 

His  eager  entrails  full  supply, 

Since  his  employer's  wages  yield 

But  close  escape  from  Potter's  field. 

Can  he  pay  more,  who  fears  to  fail, 

Trading  on  borrowed  capital, 

And  in  the  Banker's  coffer  flings 

The  "  profit "  he  from  Labor  wrings  ? 

Who  has  just  felt  the  grinning  Jew 

In  "  pound  of  flesh,"  his  hands  imbrue, 

And  must  his  gaping  wounds  assuage 

By  baser  fabric,  lowered  wage, 

So  raging  ift  his  office  counts 

How  to  regain  it,  ounce  by  ounce? 

Bankers  in  land,  and  shares  invest, 

And  Man's  Lawgivers  bribe  and  feast, 

Profits  breed  profit :    Cent  per  cent 

Protection 's  all  of  Gf-overnment. 

The  Judge  by  working  half  their  day, 

Earns  what  would  three  score  laborers  pay  ; 

No  Job's  chair  at  the  city's  gate, 

With  sense  on  law,  dare  innovate, 

But  pondering  brows,  and  loud  debate, 

Precedents  read,  statutes  collate, 

Must  throw  their  force  upon  a  mind, 

To  simple  Justice  deaf  and  blind ; 

Reason  must  feed  on  the  dead  pith 


Times  change  —  Laws  do  not.  79 

Of  Law,  in  "  Wiggins  versus  Smith," 
Before  it  can  decree  prepare 
To  fit  the  case  it  has  at  bar. 

So  Chinese  tailors  on  their  bench, 

By  servile  imitation  quench 

Their  common-sense,  as  they  devote 

Their  solemn  skill  to  make,  a  coat, 

Like  that  by  European  sent, 

To  teach  them  how  to  shape  his  want, 

And  deftly  on  new  garments  match 

A  disregarded,  sorry  patch, 

That  so  the  copy's  symmetry 

May  meet  their  patron's  scrutiny. 

To-day  our  locomotives  drag 
The  same  old  cart  the  carrier's  nag 
Saw  his  thick-witted  master  stow 
With  freight  five  centuries  ago. 
The  carrier  in  Court-Leet  sued, 
With  Hodge  on  equal  footing  stood, 
He  proved  his  damage,  and  was  paid 
Law  then,  the  carriers  dismayed. 
That  cart  to  myriad  cars  has  grown, 
Hodge  still  is  an  unlettered  clown, 
Poor,  ragged,  friendless  and  unknown ; 
Let  him  sue  them  —  Ohone  !  Ohone  ! 

Now  Labor's  tenure  of  the  land, 
Is  what  it  was  when  Nimrod  planned 
To  dominate  his  fellows.     Since 
His  dynasty  has  lacked  no  prince 


80  Our  Trojan  Horse. 

To  inherit  the  control  he  clutched ; 
Still  Greed  is  palaced,  Labor  hutched, 
No  change,  except  that  more  polite, 
Our  sheriffs  levy  on  the  wight, 
And  sell  his  "  Means  of  life,"  while  he 
Red-handed,  took  the  property. 

So  Laws  perpetuate  each  curse, 

And  Usury  vaunts  her  bursting  purse. 


Rooted  upon  the  granite  rock 
Of  innate  selfishness  they  mock, 
With  their  high  battlements,  the  rage 
Of  wars  which  tongue  or  pen  can  wage. 
But  here,  thank  God,  we  have  the  force 
The  Greeks  found  in  their  wooden  horse 
Our  engine  is  within  their  towers  — 
Brothers,  come  out !  the  city's  ours ! 
And  as  Troy  fell,  so  here  will  fall 
The  frightful  walls  of  Capital. 

We  have  the  Ballot,  at  its  beck 
The  law-built  fortress  lies  in  wreck, 
When  two  tramps  outweigh  Vanderbilt, 
If  blood  should  follow,  his  the  guilt. 
Brute  Force,  now  Monarch,  rebel  when 
The  Commune  drives  him  from  his  den, 
Shall  see  his  paper  titles  torn, 
Shall  see  his  statutes  held  in  scorn, 
In  durance,  with  his  close  clipt  claw, 
Shall  scrape  in  vain  his  muzzled  jaw, 
Shall  see  the  jungles  where  he  caved, 


The  dawn  of  better  days.  81 

By  freemen  tilled  'neath  laws  engraved 
On  every  human  heart,  and  known 
Wherever  Love  has  Greed  outgrown, 
For  Reason  shall  his  Bastile  win, 
And  Labor,  servant,  shall  be  King. 


Despair  not  Labor !     Thro'  your  night 
The  dawn  is  breaking !     Now  the  light 
Of  Reason  glimmers  in  the  towers. 
Upon  Time's  dial,  single  hours 
For  generations  stand.     Your  guns 
Will  father  free  flails  for  your  sons  ; 
The  gun  that  thinks  need  only  sight, 
Its  bullet 's  bedded  in  "  the  white  !  " 
Your  powder  dry,  your  aim  exact, 
And  lo  !     Democracy  's  a  fact ; 
Her  equal  law  dissolves  the  strife 
Of  Labor  with  his  "  Means  of  Life," 
Which  Capital  for  "profit"  plies, 
Earned  but  by  your  sterilities. 

Behold  your  foes,  whose  power  sustains 
The  cankered  Frauds  that  blight  your  gains 
For  whom  you  faint  in  Summer's  heat, 
For  whom  you  freeze  in  Winter's  sleet, 
For  whom  in  dismal  huts  you  dwell — 
Whose  squalor  makes  green  earth  a  hell. 

Between  them  and  your  wak'ning  hate, 
Your  courts  as  buffers  dissipate 
Through  cushioned  judges,  forceful  blows, 
Lost  in  the  reverence  that  bows 


82  The  Enemies  of  Labor. 

To  "  dictum,"  as  tho'  in  a  vest 

Of  ermine,  Wisdom  must  be  dressed. 

Faugh !     Folly,  with  his  cap  and  bells, 
As  oft'  with  genuine  wisdom  dwells, 
As  does  the  pundit  whose  crammed  skull 
With  John  Doe's  pedigree  is  full. 

This  is  a  Court !     See  seven  to  eight 

Enter  upon  the  high  debate  ; 

Each  question  raised,  of  law  or  fact, 

Each  reading  of  the  nation's  pact, 

Betrays  in  all  the  party  leaven — 

Each  settled  still  by  eight  to  seven. 

A  Court !     Behold  the  solemn  eight 

Affirm,  the  solemn  seven  negate 

On  each  divide.     Two  parrots'  throats, 

Half-trained,  would  give  as  well  the  votes — 

This  taught  to  scream  'We're  seven  !  "  and  that 

To  squawk  its  answer,  "  Eight !  we're  eight ! " 

Our  highest  Court !  and  seven  to  eight 

Its  solemn  finding  deprecate  ; 

For  seven  to  eight  must  disagree 

Upon  the  partisan  decree. 

Rev'rence  is  waste,  O  !  Toil !     For  such 

Ermines  would  your  grimed  fingers  smutch  ? 

But  leave  her  higher  seats  ;  come  down 
Where  Justice  wears  her  work-day  gown. 
Behold  her  halls,  where  lawyers  snarl 
Around  her,  standing  by  her  barrel, 
Wielding  an  oyster  knife — her  sword — 


The  Courts.  83 


As  each  bivalvous  case  is  heard, 

And  while  their  slobb'ring  mouths  she  fills- 

'Twixt  litigants  divides  the  shells  ; 

Her  scales  a-rust,  her  bandage  slipped, 

As  Influence  is  fellowshipped. 

Think  you  the  sal'ried  Solomon, 

Whose  precedents  award  the  bone 

To  him  who  wins  contested  cause — 

Its  marrow  sucked  by  legal  fees  — 

By  modesty  would  be  debarred 

From  sharing  in  the  gross  award  ? 

That  when  the  sapient  Shallow  blinks, 

The  while  his  bailiff  trolls  the  sinks 

Where  second-hand  free-lunch  is  spread, 

For  jurors,  he  will  go  unfed ; 

And  when  the  verdict  is  on  sale, 

Of  his  appointee  take  no  toll. 

Could  Hibbard  equal  share  deny 

In  gain  from  annual  perjury, 

To  Blodgett,  under  whose  advice 

He  framed  his  tabulated  lies  ? 

Think,  he,  whose  honesty  was  vouched 

By  Law-Association,  pouched 

All  profit  and  denied  his  claim, 

Who  furnished  for  a  shield,  his  name  ? 

Fraught  with  repulsive  villainies, 

Your  Justice  Courts  their  source  confess  ; 

The  ermine  somewhere  hides  a  purse, 

Or  why  should  it  the  knave  endorse, 

Whose  docket  verifies  his  boast : 

"  The  judgment  must  secure  the  cost." 


84  Absurdities  of  Human  justice. 

O  !  God  of  Justice  !     Could  I  half 
Describe  this  contrast,  men  would  laugh 
To  scorn  the  dotards  that  usurp 
Your  seat,  with  "  precedents  "  to  warp 
The  jurors'  sense,  till  as  by  dice, 
Plaudits  or  ropes  he  offers  vice, 
Grown  Murder,  and  disdaining  cloak, 
So  well  disguised  by  legal  smoke. 

Here !  One,  a  romping  wife  has  slain, 

He's  innocent!  he  was  insane  ! 

Prove  that,  by  letters  two  years  old, 

Rage  then  Insanity,  foretold, 

Prove  its  slow  growth  that  dreary  time, 

Until  one  day  his  eyes  grew  dim 

With  jealous  tears,  and  long-nursed  wrath 

With  coward  pistol  hunted  death. 

Acquit  him  ;  crazed  perhaps  he  was, 

Brain  staggers  oft  for  lesser  cause ; 

No  sudden  access  tho',  the  intent 

Is  what  the  fondled  weapon  meant, 

Through  the  dull  months  his  angry  grip 

Oft  sought  in  dreams  his  burdened  hip. 

And  there  are  two  raw,  filthy  boys, 
Coarse  in  their  toil,  beasts  in  their  joys, 
Living  by  butchery,  slaughter-dazed, 
Their  natural  instincts  even,  were  crazed. 
Of  all  the  brutes  they  stabbed,  no  life 
Viler  than  theirs  fell  to  their  knife. 
Neither  was  sane,  tho'  at  his  best, 
And  wild  with  rage,  from  lust  repressed, 


How  Law  creates  crime.  85 

Delired  by  drink  the  city  sold, — 

She  gave  the  license,  got  the  gold, — 

Running  a  muck,  a  man  they  slew, 

A  man  that  neither  ever  knew, 

No  time  for  an  intent  to  form, 

The  weapon  in  the  hand -scarce  warm. 

Prove  them  insane  !  cries  Common  Sense. 
Close  guard  them, — all  beyond  th'  expense 
To  feed  them,  that  their  toil  can  earn 
Apply  to  wipe  their  tears  who  mourn. 
Force  them  for  life  rebuild  the  house 
They  shattered  by  their  wild  carouse. 
No  pardon !     Let  a  jury  say 
When  they  again  may  welcome  day. 
Apply  the  price  of  blood  you  took 
For  license.     Let  the  orphans  look 
To  you,  to  return  the  money  cost 
Of  all  they,  with  the  father,  lost, 
Why  not  ?     If  arson  bought  permit, 
Should  not  the  seller,  house  refit, 
Who  starts  a  flame,  full  damage  owes 
To  him  who  suffers  as  it  grows ; 
If  lit  in  hearts,  or  touched  to  straw 
His  debt's  the  same  by  Reason's  law. 

So  Common  Sense, —  what  says  the  judge  ? 
"Admitting  that  they  have  no  grudge, 
The  murd'rous  weapon  shows  th'  intent, 
And  death  must  be  their  punishment. 
If  drunkenness  is  self-induced, 
No  crime  by  it  can  be  excused, 


86  Precedents. 


The  Law  presumes  the  man  got  drunk, 
Because  from  crime,  he  sober,  shrunk, 
And  meant  to  grow  insane,  and  fill 
His  whirling  brain  with  lust  to  kill. 
Crime  in  community  is  rife  ; 
The  gallows  teach  the  worth  of  life. 
The  loss  the  hapless  orphans  met, 
In  law  does  not  create  a  debt. 
Such  debt,  if  debt  it  is,  is  lost, 
Their  assets  must  recoup  the  cost. 
Ev'n  tho'  the  license  did  devote 
The  victim,  such  claim's  "too  remote," 
The  State  will  care  its  gendered  poor, 
So  for  "  Relief,"  "  apply  next  door." 

Ah  !  Judge,  that  madness  was  a  fact, 
The  crime  the  State's,  tho'  their's  the  act, 
Those  reckless  boys,  by  poison  plied, 
For  murder  bred,  by  murder  died ! 
You  know  it,  yet  you  dragged  your  brain, 
Behind  th'  old  Bailey's  creaking  wain. 
It  ran  by  "precedent"  till  crime 
Danced  in  his  cart,  and  grew  sublime, 
In  sheer  indifference  to  death 
Spent  his  last,  rope-encircled  breath, 
To  drop  a  joke,  on  slipping  plank 
Grinned  thro'  the  noose,  a  mountebank, 
Making  a  face  at  doom,  to  hear 
The  mob's  applauding,  parting  cheer. 

But  he  whose  jealousy  consigned 

His  wife  to  death,  had  trained  his  mind 


The  virtue  of  Justice  impugned.  87 

To  grow  familiar  with  the  thought 
Of  murder,  and  the  pistol  shot 
Was  but  the  aloe's  sudden  bloom, 
Quick  product  of  a  century's  gloom. 
Prove  patient  schooling,  prove  his  skin 
Was  jaundiced,  as  he  neared  his  sin  ; 
Your  argus  eyes  turn  on  his  wife. 
Inspect  her  giddy,  thoughtless  life, 
Invade  her  mother's  domicil, 
Rummage  her  bed  for  cause  to  kill 
Her  froward  daughter.     Break  the  lock, 
That  would  a  hungry  sheriff  mock, 
And  pour  a  Drummond  light  for  years 
On  all  the  smutty  household's  smears ; 
Prove  bloodshot  eyes,  and  tear- washed  face 
Your  "precedent"  's  the  Sickles'  case ! 


Enough !  lest  Williams  see  contempt, 
Should  I  with  fainting  pen  attempt 
Description  of  the  pimps  impure, 
Stall  fed  by  Justice,  as  a  whore 
Feasts  hackmen,  who  her  den  prefer 
With  spreeing,  leering  customer. 
For  ev'n  Rothgerber  can  not  bail 
Him  from  the  honors  of  a  jail, 
Whose  queasy  stomach  shows  disgust 
When  the  Court's  partner  takes  a  trust, 
And  as  Receiver  triplicates 
The  fees  his  senior  validates. 

"  Lettre  de  cachet"  still  the  Judge 
Can  use  to  gratify  his  grudge  ; 


88  The  Judge  s  power  an  anomaly. 

In  free  America  he  claims 
Prerogative  that  despot  shames. 
Tries  his  own  cause,  and  sentences 
To  Bastiles,  whence  is  no  egress 
But  by  his  mercy,  those  who  sneer 
At  Justice  Shallow's  legal  lore. 

Man's  freedom,  at  discretion  held, 

'Tis  tyrant  law  that  judges  wield  ; 

Casual,  uncertain  and  unknown, 

'Tis  different  in  different  men. 

Perchance  the  weapon  used  by  hate 

To  quell  an  earnest  advocate, 

Or  to  chastise  an  editor, 

Who,  thro'  his  paper,  dares  demur 

At  implicated  meanings  brought 

To  stretch  the  statute's  narrow  thought. 

Ev'n  in  the  best,  'tis  at  caprice, 

And  in  the  worst  'tis  every  vice, 

Folly,  and  passion,  man  can  feel 

Whose  power  has  limit  in  his  will. 

The  Court  whose  theory  derides 

Man's  wid'ning  thought,  and  cause  decides 

By  "precedent,"  must  still  prolong 

His  contest  with  the  crimes  that  throng 

The  ragged  time-worn  statutes  framed 

When  Right  e'en  more  than  now,  was  shamed, 

As  in  a  close-sealed  coffin  pent 
The  mouldering  body  of  a  saint 
Preserves  life-like  its  shape  and  hue — 
Quick  vanishing  when  brought  to  view, 


A  Code  demanded.  89 


When  air,  as  with  the  lightning's  stroke, 
The  simulacrum  blends  in  smoke ;     * 
So  Courts  preserve,  and  men  adore, 
Its  substance  gone — the  shape  of  power — 
When,  if  their  superstitious  awe 
Dared  crush  its  box,  the  mould'ring  law 
Would  vanish  as  the  people's  breath 
Struck  the  long-shrined,  decaying  wraith. 

No  hope  for  Right,  'till  mankind  turn 
To  Nature,  and  from  her  discern  : 
Death  has  no  rights,  but  swift  decay, 
That  Life  is  poisoned  in  its  sway ; 
That  she,  untiring,  strives  to  efface 
Its  shadows  from  her  smiling  face, 
And  knows  no  past,  but  as  a  step 
To  higher  growth  and  wider  sweep. 

Man  must  his  erring  steps  retrace, 
The  laws  that  bind  and  interlace 
The  social  frame  he  must  repeal, 
And  with  a  better  bond  anneal 
Man  to  his  fellow,  all  to  each, 
Would  he  a  nobler  stature  reach. 

For  that,  what  aid  can  he  expect 
From  schooled  and  crippled  intellect, 
Whence  Reason's  natural  force  has  fled—- 
Scared by  the  musty  tomes  are  read 
For  legal  education  ;  codes, 
The  outgrowth  of  man-robbing  feuds. 


90  Enemies  of  Labor. 

'Till  two  things  occupy  one  place 
At  tHfe  same  moment,  all  the  race 
Of  Lawyers  are,  perforce,  arrayed 
In  solid  phalanx,  to  dissuade 
From  the  destruction  of  a  scheme, 
So  long  persistent,  that  they  deem 
It  based  in  Nature,  as  if  Caste 
Could  back  to  Deity  be  traced. 
For  if  the  spongy  brain  in  Coke, 
Blackstone,  Kent,  Chitty,  lies  a-soak, 
How  can  it  hold  the  thought  refined 
By  Jesus',  Plato's,  Bacon's,  mind. 

Besides,  the  angry  avarice 

Of  every  silversmith  must  hiss, 

When  Paul  declares  a  God,  whose  shrine 

No  image  needs,  to  prove  divine. 


Against  you  press,  in  serried  ranks, 
Legions  of  lenders,  troops  of  banks, 
Soul-less,  immortal,  chartered  bilks 
Who  scatter  rags,  that  rustling  silks 
By  spiders  from  your  muscle  spun 
May  flaunt  and  shimmer  in  the  sun. 

They  based  on  bonds,  by  Interest  fed 

Iron-shod  on  prostrate  Labor  tread. 

The  twenty  million  dollars  tax 

Which  crams  their  bellies,  strips  your  backs, 

Is  fifty  millions,  measured  by 

The  lowered  wage  of  Industry. 


Bankers. —  Jews.  91 


That  sum  they  annually  suck 

From  Labor's  spring  by  untaxed  Stock. 

The  creatures  you  by  law  have  made, 

Now  dare  the  force  of  law  deride, 

And  Sherman  bribed,  or  Sherman  cowed, 

Still  robs  the  poor,  to  glut  the  proud, 

And  silver  spurning,  spurns  the  vote 

Loosed  Usury's  clutch  on  Labor's  throat ; 

As  though  the  business  and  intent 

Of  human  law  and  government, 

Was  robbing  for  benevolence, 

To  Luxury,  from  Indigence. 

Was  levying  forced  loans  on  the  Poor, 

Wealth's  domination  to  assure. 


And  with  them  band  that  rat-souled  race 
Of  rodent  teeth,  and  greed-carved  face, 
Whose  cormorant  beak,  and  glance  askew, 
With  servile  shrug,  reveal  the  Jew. 

Four  thousand  years,  his  pedigree 
Of  legal  theft  and  villainy, 
He,  boasting,  traces  to  the  day, 
Saw  Abraham  from  Shinar  stray, 
Who  left  Chaldean  teraphim 
Placate  with  flowers,  and  votive  hymn, 
That  he  might  grimmer  God  adore, 
On  unhewn  altars,  dripping  gore. 

As  through  accusing  earth  his  blood 
Continuous  pours  its  branching  flood, 


92  The  intolerance  of  the  Jeivish  race. 


His  foreskin  on  th'  eternal  throne 
Lies  pleading  merit  for  each  son  ; 
While  Esau  robs,  and  Jacob  steals, 
Its  occult  virtue,  crime  conceals. 
O  !  wondrous  creed  !  Hell  ne'er  can  win 
A  soul  protect  by  that  foreskin ! 

So  thus  secure,  his  race,  the  pest 

Of  Labor,  does  all  climes  infest, 

No  pirate  horde  too  villainous, 

No  tribe  on  earth  too  barbarous, 

To  lack  its  carrion-feeding  crew, 

To  want  the  harpy-stomached  Jew, 

And  save  where  straw-bail  makes  demand 

For  perjured  bonds,  he  owns  no  land. 

A  migratory,  homeless  herd, 

Whose  physiognomy  has  stirred 

Instinctive  scorn,  contempt,  and  hate, 

In  nobler  breeds  of  Man,  since  mate 

Incestuous  reared  its  base-browed  spawn, 

The  weak  to  flay,  the  strong  to  fawn. 

That  Xerxes  saw,  the  most  deformed 

Of  all  earth's  tribes  that  round  him  swarmed  ; 

That's  gained  no  grace  or  beauty  since, 

To  save  a  thief,  it  slew  a  prince. 

World  sewer,  pouring  its  vile  flood 

Thro'  Time,  unmixt  with  human  blood. 

Accursed,  for  foreign  to  mankind, 

Their  hideous  altars  have  enshrined 

A  puny  God,  too  small  to  embrace 

With  equal  arms  the  human  race. 


Distinguished  from  Hebrews.  93 

Yet  often  Nature  conquers  blood, 

And  washes  in  her  limpid  flood 

Birth-poisoned  hearts,  till  thro'  them  glide 

Unfouled,  love's  sparkling  crystal  tide  ; 

For  Essenes  still  herd  among 

The  griping  Sadducean  throng, 

Who,  taught  by  Nature's  broader  book, 

Abjure  the  narrow  Pentateuch, 

Blaspheming  law,  would  interlace 

And  blend  as  one,  the  human  race. 

Who  seek  the  temple,  thro'  a  gate, 

Forbidden  Pharasaic  hate, 

And  find  a  God  indwelling  there, 

Whose  love  all  men  as  equals  share. 

Aye  !  Nature's  strong!  of  such  descent 
To  frame  a  Hebrew,  proves  intent 
Fixed  deep  within  her  struggling  soul, 
Grows  hotter  as  she  nears  her  goal. 
For  till  this  age,  the  bigot  race 
Ne'er  turned  mankind  a  smiling  face  ; 
And  even  the  fishermen  who  crept 
Slow  on  the  path  that  Jesus  stept, 
Had  bitter  feuds,  ere  angel  eyes 
Saw  foreskinned  saints  ascend  the  skies. 

Some  I  have  met,  who  're  "  circumcised 
In  heart" — a  phrase  the  Apostles  prized  — 
Tho'  how,  ensmalling  that,  they  gained 
In  "  grace,"  I'll  never  understand. 
I  know  them  brimmed  with  love,  perhaps 
As  surgeons  sometimes  cut  for  claps, 


94  Jews,  stranyers  among  Men. 

They  were  for  issue  impotent 

Till  knife -slashed  creed  revealed  a  vent. 

Tho'  they  don't  like  it,  I  remark, 

They  're  never  hungry  where  there's  pork ; 

And,  clean,  because  they  wash,  their  plight 

Is  not  advantaged  by  the  "rite." 


Jews  know  no  country,  save  where  theft, 

By  law,  has  Toil  of  right  bereft. 

If  universal  Love  forbade 

All  usury,  the  Jew  would  fade 

From  Earth,  as  Otaheitans  die 

By  Christian  sensuality. 

Let  Man  weigh  worth  of  wheat  in  ore 

Two  stupid  generations  more, 

The  Jews  the  human  race  will  rob, 

By  usury,  of  the  solid  globe. 

A  nation  in  each  nation,  they 

Know  Gentiles  but  as  natural  prey. 

And  Jews  whose  greed  is  animate 

By  deadly  and  atavic  hate, 

Riot  as  vermin  on  the  vile, 

And  batten  as  they  filth  defile. 

All  States,  where  credit  fosters  trade, 

Whose  credit  wealth  by  time  is  made, 

Harbor  their  foes,  and  scratch  and  bleed, 

While  insect  usurers  on  them  feed. 

When  diabolic  thrift  has  swelled 
Beyond  all  limit,  men  grow  wild ; 
The  crazed  and  tortured  victims  pour 
Mercurial  ointment  on  the  sore, 


Why  they  are  and  have  been  persecuted.         95 

And  Love,  nor  hears,  nor  heeds  their  call, 
As  Jews,  the  lice  of  Labor,  crawl 
Off  earth,  to  void,  in  poisoned  swarms, 
From  Toil's  sun -browned  and  hairy  arms. 

Fat-brained  historians  relate 
The  crimes  wrought  by  each  frenzied  State, 
As  though  cold-blooded  bigots  slew, 
Avenging  Calvary  on  the  Jew. 

Not  thus  they  die,  'tis  Nature's  wrath 
Each  cycle  sweeps  them  from  her  path. 
Progress  her  law :  their  usuries  blight 
Souls  robbed  by  poverty  of  light, 
Whose  blind  intolerance  destroys, 
While  king  and  priest  the  spoil  enjoys. 
Religion  furnishes  excuse, 
'Tis  Nature  rids  Earth  of  refuse, 
For  avarice  always  misses  aim, 
Its  present  gain  is  future  shame. 
So  in  each  age  is  instinct-stirred, 
Some  nation,  and  Jews  massacred, 
Tortured,  and  exiled,  driven  forth, 
Like  Cain,  to  wander  over  earth, 
Proves  God  on  high,  again  has  seen 
An  Abel's  blood  incarnadine 
The  tides  of  time,  and  plies  His  sword 
Flaming  with  vengeance,  till  the  horde 
Who  never  mercy's  impulse  felt, 
In  agony  atone  their  guilt. 

Why  pity  fools  who  have  been  told 

A  thousand  times  the  shower-bath  's  cold, 


96  Their  avarice. 


Yet  pull  the  string,  and,  yelling,  crouch 
In  misery  beneath  its  douche. 

Marked  ere  their  eyes  distinguish  light 
By  Black-art  circumcising  rite, 
That  dedicates  each  puling  shoot 
Of  Jacob's  loins  as  Hell's  recruit, 
The  Jackals  of  the  world,  they  glean 
Profit  by  Famine's  eyes  unseen, 
And  in  the  wake  of  pestilence, 
Scramble  for  plague-polluted  pence, 
Dropped  by  the  swollen,  speckled  corse 
Quick  hustled  to  its  loathsome  hearse. 

Their  vulture  eyes  discern  afar 

The'reeking  carrion  of  war  ; 

They  count  cadavers,  but  to  sell 

Or  buy  as  markets  rise  and  fall, 

For  like  Vespasian,  they  think 

The  sheen  of  gold  perfumes  its  stink. 

Pactolus  poured  thro'  Waterloo 

To  satiate  a  thirsty  Jew, 

As  laughing  Rothschild's  subtle  scheme 

Into  his  coffers  turned  its  stream,  • 

When  France  and  England  mourned  the  slain 

Who  fattened  Belgium's  miry  plain, 

And  sought  for  cloth,  their  grief  to  drape, 

The  Jew  monopolized  the  crape. 

Wherever  falsehood,  fraud  or  sham, 
With  stony  heart  or  flabby  palm 
Can  forge  a  paper,  clip  a  coin, 
Behold  a  Jew  with  punch  or  pen. 


Abuse  of  dependent  Labor.  97 

From  starving  Pariah,  his  device 
Will  steal  the  scanty  mildewed  rice 
Which  England  feeds  to  impotence, 
Earning  his  daily  three  half-pence. 
To  poison  feeble-brained  Chinese, 
O'er  raving  and  distracted  seas, 
He  smuggles  thro'  the  Monsoon's  wrath, 
For  Sycee  Silver,  opium  death. 

When  in  the  dim.  dawn-lighted  street 
Bevies  of  trudging  girls  you  meet, 
Half- waked,  half-clothed,  half-combed,  half-fed, 
Whose  haste  to  work  leaves  prayer  unsaid, 
They're  hurrying  to  the  sweater's  room, 
(That  Morgue,  whence  virtue  seeks  her  tomb) 
To  earn  such  wage  as  Jews  will  give, 
Who  undersell  mankind  and  thrive. 


Wages !    My  God  !    The  foreman  leers. 
Complaisance  answers  through  her  tears  ; 
The  fairest  meets  his  snaky  eye, 
'Lust-glittering  through  malignity, 
And,  serpent-charmed,  submissive  crawls 
In  shrinking  terror  to  his  coils. 
Rescue  is  none ;  the  cold  world's  stare 
Sole  answer  to  her  mute  despair, 
Who  sells  virginity  for  food, 
And  pregnant,  dies  to  womanhood. 

By  hunger  driven  to  nakedness, 
She  endures  the  circumcised  caress, 
Trades  to  a  Satyr  peaceful  dream, 


98  "Love's  labor  lost." 

On  truckle  bed,  for  gems  and  shame. 
And  lace  and  wretchedness  in  down, 
Till  tired  lust  leaves  her  "on  the  town," 
To  drag  along  the  leering  pave 
Her  aching  body  to  the  grave, 
As  wrapped  in  tawdry  silken  shroud, 
She  joins  the  painted  hags  who  crowd 
The  cemetery  vaults — unknelled — 
Though  dead  as  death,  from  life  expelled. 

Rankling  remorse  torments  her  day 
Who,  though  repentant,  dare  not  pray, 
For  food  and  raiment  earned  requite 
The  turpid  misery  of  the  night. 
When  love  lies  bleeding,  fainting,  torn, 
Anguished  and  pricked  by  lust's  foul  thorn, 
The  prone  and  helpless  sport  of  Sin, 
Pawing  her  shame-burnt,  shuddering  skin, 
Rooting  and  champing  on  her  breast, 
Which  pants,  as  hate  aglow  gives  zest 
To  gnawing  pleasure's  biting  bliss, 
As  hell  rounds  torture  with  a  kiss, 
And  slobbers  ganglionic  gust 
Unknown  to  brutes,  felt  but  by  dust, 
Whose  nerves  are  tindered  in  its  flame, 
When  cold  disgust  hugs  clutching  shame. 


Where'er  the  brain  of  Labor  sifts 

Earth's  golden  sands  from  old  world  drifts, 

For  gain,  Nomadic  cent-per-cent 

Has  brought  his  scale,  and  pitched  his  tent. 


Paivnshops  and  War-loans.  99 

Avoirdupois  alone  he'll  trust 

To  weigh  the  worth  of  miner's  dust, 

While  pounds  apothecary  please 

His  gladdened,  gland-skinned  consignees. 

Wherever  in  the  City's  slum 

A  hag,  insane  with  thirst  for  rum, 

Would  pawn  her  baby's  gown  or  shoe, 

She  seeks,  and  finds  the  expectant  Jew, 

Beside  each  palace,  built  for  gin, 

His  craft  has  placed  the  usurer's  den, 

That  like  a  syphon  for  his  drouth, 

Hell's  broth  conducts  from  barrel  to  mouth. 

Wherever  a  crowned  tiger  broods, 

How  rule  a  realm  where  thought  intrudes, 

Whether  its  surges  to  repress 

By  war  internal,  through  police  ; 

By  exile,  hangman,  jail  and  spy, 

The  spreading  leaven  to  defy ; 

Or  by  external  war  to  slake 

Man's  thirst  for  Progress,  and  evoke 

From  flaming  hut  and  plundered  town, 

The  glory  that  protects  a  crown. 

See,  by  his  elbow,  Shylock  stand, 

With  gold  and  scrip  in  either  hand, 

For  usury  prepared  to  lend 

What  sum  the  tyrant  needs  to  send, 

The  crazed  shoemaker  in  pursuit 

Of  customer  that  bought  his  boot, 

Or  so,  the  savage  weaver  drill, 


100          The  private  Soldiers  share  of  Glory. 

He  can  at  long  range  tailors  kill, 

Or  pay  informers  for  the  breath 

Of  perjury,  instinct  with  death, 

To  those,  whom  Nature  puts  in  van, 

Each  age,  of  struggling,  waiting  Man. 

Aye  !  glad  to  loan  the  price  of  blood, 

He'll  chant  "Te-Deums!"  to  the  God 

That  wins,  should  Paris  hold  his  fane, 

Or  Berlin  centre  his  domain ; 

While  Bauer  and  Paysan  homeward  crawl 

From  battle  to  their  dreary  toil, 

And  lengthen  it  an  hour  each  day, 

His  swelling  interest  to  pay. 

Or  (this,  with  stumping  wooden  leg, 

All  armless  that),  both  wretches  beg 

On  Mammon's  battle-field,  for  life 

Made  worthless  by  th'  unnatural  strife, 

And  never,  pfennig,  one,  nor  sou, 

The  other,  get  from  grinning  Jew  ; 

While  neither  ever  learn  the  why 

Of  their  insensate  battle  cry. 


By  buzzards  clustering  in  the  field 

The  putrid  carcass  is  revealed, 

Whose  stench  the  croaking  swarms  afar 

Have  smelt,  who  flock  to  "  Profit's"  war. 

So  man  may  know  that  State  corrupt 

Whose  Jews  to  power  by  gold  have  crept. 

Across  the  seas,  hear  England's  wail 

As  telephones  her  wealth  assail, 

For  while  Jew  Disraeli  talks, 

Jew  Rothschild  bulls  or  bears  her  stocks. 


"  Honest  Money  /"    "'  itil ' 


And  here,  upon  Bankruptcy's  brink, 

The  nation  clings  as  values  shrink. 

Driblet  by  driblet  law  has  drained, 

What  Labor  for  ten  years  has  gained. 

Toil's  money,  by  ten  thousand  rills, 

Miasmaed  dam  of  Mammon  fills, 

And  every  field  is  bared  of  mould, 

Law-swept  to  stagnant  marsh  of  gold. 

The  aggregated  wealth  's  outgrown 

Their  power  to  use,  who  claim  to  own  ; 

And  millions  multiplied  are  pressed 

On  Sherman's  hands  for  interest ; 

So  the  robbed  Nation  guards  the  pledge, 

And  pays  them  for  the  privilege,- 

While  our  law-givers  are  the  tools 

Of  "  Honest  Money  !  "  yawp  of  fools 

By  Sherman  and  Jew  usurers  taught, 

To  worship  what  their  hands  have  wrought. 

Now  all  the  streams  that  irrigate 
Your  fruitful  soil,  contaminate 
With  your  ground  idol,  nauseate 
Your  retching,  griping,  purging  State. 
And  bitterer  dregs  you  yet  shall  quaff, 
For  worshipping  that  golden  calf, 
For  dozen-hatted  Moses  grins, 
As  every  throe  new  "profit"  wins, 
And  excrement  and  vomit  pour 
Into  his  coffers,  Danae's  shower. 
While  Sherman,  as  his  patrons  suck 
The  brimming  misery,  runs  his  muck, 
As  proud  as  any  little  god, 


102  Chartered  Thieves. 

To  see  the  weals  his  playful  rod 
Inflicts  on  wretches  doomed  to  feel 
The  pains  of  his  financial  skill. 

See  how  their  ranks  aligned  reveal 
The  Savings  Banks,  create  to  steal. 
Philanthropy  turns  common  thief, 
Creates  a  bank  upon  belief, 
And  Usurer,  as  Philanthropist, 
Discounts  Man's  confidence  in  Christ. 

The  tramping  laziness  that  begs, 

Earning  its  offal  by  its  legs ; 

That  snivels  at  your  kitchen  doors, 

And  for  "  Swate  Jesus,""  food  implores ; 

That,  trespassing  upon  the  earth, 

From  Love  draws  tears,  from  Mammon  mirth. 

The  brawling  "  sport,"  whose  breath  defiles 

The  courtezan  on  whom  he  smiles ; 

Whose  gems  blaze  on  his  putrid  heart, 

As  cogged  dice  decorate  his  shirt ; 

Who  in  Gin's  palace  damns  your  cause, 

And  squand'ring  plunder,  bawls  of  laws. 

Are  each  a  paragon  of  grace, 

Contrasted  with  that  viler  race, 

Whose  sordid  luxuries,  well  won 

Behind  Law's  shield,  their  crimes  atone. 

For  whom  bribed  justice  aids  straw-bail 

Dispel  the  horrors  of  the  jail ; 

For  whose  defense  best  counsel  plead, 

Assigned  by  judges  to  their  need ; 

For  whom  Cook  County  jurors  feel 


Hercules  and  the  Hydra.  103 

Such  interest  in  their  fellows'  weal, 
With  garments  all  unsinged  they  stroll, 
Through  your  indictments  with  their  spoil. 


They  for  deposits  advertise, 

By  trumpeting  their  charities, 

In  conscience  tortured,  if  they  meet, 

And  don't  improve,  a  chance  to  cheat ; 

For  conscience  always  interferes, 

Save  where  self-interest  appears; 

And  meekly  bow  the  scheming  head 

To  crave  God's  blessing  on  the  bread 

Curst  by  the  widow's  sobs,  who  saw 

Her  children  houseless,  by  the  law ; 

Curst  by  the  suicide,  who  glares 

From  Hades,  shuddering  at  their  prayers. 

Where  these  their  robbing  statutes  write, 

Labor  has  choice  'twixt  fight  and  flight, 

As  Hercules  in  vain  assailed 

The  Lernsean  hydra,  and  bewailed 

His  wasted  blows,  as  each  slain  head 

Its  duplicated  horror  bred, 

So  Labor's  might  is  spent  in  vain 

As  Usury  girds  his  hopeless  pain, 

His  burdens  ever  higher  rise, 

For  while  he  adds,^he  multiplies. 

The  power  of  Gold  to  reproduce 

Is  endless  war,  that  knows  no  truce. 

O  !  Brother !  the  infernal  womb, 

Whose  voided  vermin  blights  your  home, 

Hot  iron  must  sear  ere  peace  is  won, 

And  Earth  is  ruled  from  Labor's  throne. 


104  Competition. 


All  Interest  adds  production's  cost 
Must  be  to  Labor  wholly  lost, 
While  the  consumers  power  to  buy 
Is  limited  by  Usury. 

Against  you,  all  to  wealth  who  creep, 
By  selling  dear  and  buying  cheap. 
Whose  scales  their  thieving  profits  win, 
And  weigh  out  more  than  they  weigh  in. 
Unregistered  as  thieves,  they  feed 
Their  fellows  upon  poisoned  bread, 
Buttered  with  lard  and  turmeric  ; 
Their  sugar  grit  with  dust  of  brick. 
Skilled  in  adulterating  arts, 
They  drive  the  honest  from  our  marts, 
Yet  Man  can't  see  adulteration 
Direct  result  of  competition. 

Their  cunning,  shallow  brains  contrive 
By  changing  Fashion  styles  to  thrive. 
A  cringing,  counter-jumping  race, 
With  lackered  smile  on  frozen  face, 
The  simp'ring  simpletons  to  greet 
Who  flaunt  their  furbelows  on  the  street, 
(With  patent  bosoms,  babes  that  bilk 
Their  scant  supply  of  azure  milk), 
Whose  longing  eyes  in  raptures  feast 
On  windows,  like  a  strumpet,  dressed 
In  gaudy  splendor,  to  entice 
From  customers  a  higher  price. 
Not  theirs  the  calm,  creative  joy 
Of  muscle  trained  to  mind's  employ ; 


Servitude  of  "Profit "  seekers.  105 

Of  eyes  with  gladdened  instinct  warm, 
As  thought  in  matter  finds  a  form, 
Shaped  in  that  ecstacy  of  pain 
Felt  by  the  brooding  genius'  brain. 
The  workman's  time  its  worth  declares  ; 
Their  value  sells  the  factory's  wares; 
Neither  degraded  bargaining,  when 
On  equal  footing  men  meet  men. 
But  the  retailer's  sickly  smile 
Must  hide  his  spleen,  regorge  his  bile, 
When  ladies  to  his  counter  stroll, 
And,  babbling,  make  the  dog  unroll 
A  hundred  bales,  then  streetward  flop, 
Unbuying,  from  the  tumbled  shop. 
Th'  unhappy  wight,  tho'  torn  with  care 
How  he  to-morrow's  draft  will  "  square," 
Heartsick  with  dread,  must  force  grimace 
To  wrinkle  pleasure  in  his  face ; 
With  tear-filled  eyes,  must  rub  his  hands, 
Soft-soaping  buyers  whose  demands 
For  lowered  price  he  meets  with  lies 
That  crawl  thro'  baser  flatteries. 
No  slavery  as  his  so  vile, 
Whose  business  forces  him  defile 
His  honor  with  his  fluent  tongue 
For  profit,  by  its  wagging  won. 
The  serf  's  a  single  master's  thrall, 
But  he,  poor  wretch  !  is  slave  to  all. 
Protean  in  mendacity 
His  paid  note  proves  integrity, 
Tho'  ev'ry  dollar  meets  the  debt 
With  perjury's  saliva  's  wet. 

8 


106  The  warrior  clerk. 

Skilled  divers  merits  to  disclose 
Of  bands  and  stripes  in  ladies'  hose  ; 
Gaining  huge  profit  from  chemise, 
Identical  with  Eugenie's ; 
Boasting  the  beauties  in  their  stores 
Of  latest  modes  of  Paris  whores ; 
Wise  in  each  texture,  hue,  and  shade 
Wins  gold  from  vanity  for  trade ; 
Their  busy,  dollar-blinking  brain 
Can  harbor  nought  but  plans  for  gain  ; 
And  Labor's  rights  or  Labor's  wrongs, 
Are  meaningless  as  nursery  songs 
To  those  who  find  their  profits  in 
Low  wages  to  the  man-machine. 

Each  starveling  soul  whose  squeak  for  "  cash," 

Earns  his  dyspeptic  stomach  "hash," 

Who  crowds  his  unsexed,  simpering  face 

Into  his  sister's  natural  place, 

To  bask  in  his  employers'  smile, 

Musters  in  Mammon's  rank  and  file, 

And  Tittlebat,  by  musk  perfumed, 

By  tax  in  uniform  costumed, 

With  flaccid  muscle,  soft  as  dough, 

Subdued  by  tape  and  calico, 

Becomes  Society's  defense 

'Gainst  Law-created  Indigence. 

Grow  varicose  his  thin  calves'  veins, 
As  he  by  musket  loaded,  trains, 
To  make  himself,  by  patient  drill, 
Fit  part  of  vast  trained  mob  to  kill, 


The  Railroads.  107 


Should  Toil  dare  clench  his  grimy  fists, 
While  struggling  to  dispel  the  mists, 
Which  Vested  Rights  forever  flood 
Upon  his  thorny,  trackless  road. 

His  foolish  teeth,  well  trained  to  smile, 
Pence  from  man's  pocket  to  beguile, 
Show  scornful  canines,  when  the  knees 
Of  poverty,  his  tastes  displease. 
His  flopping  ears  submissive  droop, 
When  fine  clothes  at  his  counter  group, 
But  like  a  terrier's  stand,  in  rage, 
When  Labor  asks  for  higher  wage  ; 
With  feeble  frowns  his  eyebrows  perk, 
At  your  complaint  of  over- work  ; 
Nature's  relief  he  would  deny, 
Who  grants  the  hurt,  the  right  to  cry, 
Could  paltry  hope  fruition  know, 
And  his  small  world  receive  him — "  Co." 

Lo  !  Here  behold  !  aflame  with  wrath, 
Greed's  champion,  iron-clad  Goliath. 
Across  the  land  he  thund'rous  strides, 
And  Labor's  shrinking  host  derides. 
Your  piteous  cry  for  "higher  wage," 
Which  jarred  his  dividends,  waked  his  rage. 
Now  mailed  and  helmeted,  his  frown 
Affrights  the  hamlet,  daunts  the  town, 
As  in  their  streets  he  cannon  plants, 
Whose  grape  inquires  what  Labor  wants, 
While  his  deep-planned,  all-grasping  law, 
Holds  your  obsequious  courts  in  awe. 


108  Why  the  State  should  manage  them. 

The  Railway  power,  whose  Philistines 
Your  Congress  from  your  Justice  screens, 
At  them  her  blunt  sword  strikes  in  vain, 
For  pass-bribed  judges  wear  their  chain, 
Holding  their  offices  but  to  job, 
Their  "  fast-freight  lines,"  stock-holders  rob, 
While  the  "  express  "  and  "  palace-car," 
Join,  every  balance-sheet  to  mar. 
They  "  Credits  Mobilier  "  invent 
Fat  contracts  to  themselves  to  grant, 
Thus  trebling  cost  to  build,  force  freights, 
To  cost  producers  treble  rates. 
With  venal  statesmen  part  their  gain, 
And  trade  with  stocks  in  souls  of  men. 
Callous  and  surd  they,  vacant,  stare, 
While  hunger  moans  unheeded  prayer, 
For  food  by  bounteous  Earth  supplied. 
For  food  by  their  high  tolls  denied  ; 
While  scowling  Heaven  inhales  the  taint 
Of  corn  for  fuel,  Labor's  plaint, 
Feeling  his  brow,  its  waste  sweat  drip, 
Because  it  would  not  pay  to  ship, 
Since  unchecked  Usury  declares 
Its  dividends  on  watered  shares. 

The  railroad  is  the  improved  highway, 
Science  has  granted  Man  to-day. 
Why  don't  he  take  it  ?     See  the  fool 
To  cursed  Monopolists  pay  toll, 
When  he  might  have,  at  cost,  his  freight, 
Were  Railroads  managed  by  the  State, 
And  showers  of  wealth,  distributed, 


The  Granger.  109 


Would  fertilize  his  field  and  mead, 
Where  now  Law's  gathered  torrents  tear 
Across  the  land  and  leave  it  bare. 

And  the  dull  granger  whose  thick  wit 

Has  never  found  the  place  to  hit 

This  pooling,  earth-oppressing  curse, 

Whose  Private  Right  trails  Labor's  hearse, 

In  shape  of  box-car  to  his  grave, 

4  Gainst  the  Commune  will  rant  and  rave, 

Which  guarantees  his  right  to  dwell 

On  land  he  does  not  want  to  sell, 

And  shows  his  boy  the  where  and  how 

To  find  area  for  his  plow, 

Saving  him  weary  years  of  toil, 

Spent  earning  what  Man  owns, — the  soil, 

As  twenty  years  ago,  he  brayed 

At  Abolitionists,  afraid 

That  a  "  free  nigger's"  grace  might  dart 

Love's  arrows  thro'  his  daughter's  heart. 

With  all  his  power  will  stem  the  flood, 

Now  gathering  to  sweep  the  brood 

Of  fierce  Philistia,  from  the  green 

And  flower-decked  vales  of  Palestine. 

Because  they  think  "  What  is  is  Right" 

He,  and  his  God,  must  Progress  fight. 

Against  you  stands  each  canting  knave, 
Whose  harpy  hands  continuous  crave 
From  Dives  pay,  denied  by  God, 
Whose  service  is  its  own  reward. 
The  woolly  wolves  in  accord  whine 
For  Human  Law,  'gainst  Law  divine ; 


110  Nothing  lies  like  an  Epitaph. 

Anathemas,  soul-blighting,  howl, 
If  thought  invades  the  was.tes  they  prowl, 
And  Labor  hold  in  tangling  creed, 
While  daily  he  is  sheared  by  Greed. 

When  in  the  sombre  funeral  file, 

The  empty  case  of  Dives  soul, 

A  stomach  parted  from  a  purse 

By  death,  digested,  in  a  hearse 

Slow  wends,  reluctant  to  its  tomb, 

Their  onioned  smiles  dispel  the  gloom, 

Who  peer  thro'  crape,  and  cozy,  loll 

In  the  first  coach  behind  the  pall, 

Where  Mammon's  priest  the  mourner  cheers, 

And  dessicates  decorum's  tears. 

"  His  virtues  live  !  Despite  the  bier — 

He  is  not  dead  !  his  million  's  here !  " 

The  thronged  church  from  the  sermon  knows 

Dives  in  Christ,  has  found  repose, 

With  Lazar,  Abram's  bosom  shares 

Up-borne  to  Heaven  on  purchased  prayers. 

And  granite  epitaphs  portray 

Such  virtues  in  the  sordid  clay, 

That  future  ages  are  acquaint 

With  the  hoar  usurer,  as  a  saint. 

He  is  not  dead,  his  soul  survives, 
Metempsychosed,  immortal  lives, 
He  is  not  dead,  his  purse-proud  heir 
Inherits  his  metallic  stare, 
And  bred  in  luxury,  to  know 
His  fellow  as  his  slave,  or  foe, 


Rehoboam  and  Vanderbilt.  Ill 

A  prayer  for  mercy,  will  but  guide 
To  greater  rage,  his  bloated  pride. 
He  boasts  his  little  finger  grown 
Far  thicker  than  his  father's  loin, 
And  scorpions  for  Israel's  race, 
The  whips  of  Solomon  replace, 
When  Rehoboam  in  purple  born, 
Ascends  the  lion-guarded  throne. 
With  callous  heart,  and  scheming  brain, 
Living  his  harpy  life  again, 
So  see  the  younger  Vanderbilt 
Strive  to  surpass  his  father's  guilt, 
And  like  a  world- wide  Kraken  draw 
With  iron-arms,  and  prehensile  law 
The  gain  of  myriads  to  his  maw. 
While  every  priest  with  solemn  tone, 
Nasal  with  sanctity,  will  own 
God's  wisdom  in  his  tyranny, 
For  "  God's  a  potter,  men  are  clay. 
This  amphora  by  power  divine, 
Was  dedicate  to  brim  with  wine. 
For  all  the  powers  that  be  on  earth 
Of  Wisdom  Infinite  have  birth, 
To  Nero,  or  to  Antonine, 
As  it  pleaseth  him  he  doth  assign, 
The  government  of  men,  and  they 
Must  be  submissive  and  obey." 

O  !   Brothers,  hear  these  organs  grind 
The  notes  they're  set  to.    March  of  mind ! 
Is  Chaos,  while  these  brains  jejune, 
Grind  alway  at  the  same  old  tune. 


112  Bible  class  lessons. 

While  thieves  and  prostitutes  are  bred 
In  swarms,  by  want  to  error  led ; 
While  from  the  reeking,  undrained  street, 
The  gamin  hastes  with  flying  feet, 
Despite  his  father's  anxious  cares, 
Despite  his  mother's  sobbing  prayers, 
Despite  his  sister's  brimming  eye, 
And  the  babe's  prattling  mimicry, 
On  his  swift  journey  to  the  cell 
Whence  Mammon  fills  the  gaps  in  Hell. 
These  Chadbands  wipe  their  greasy  chins 
And  belch  of  Christ-atoned  sins. 
Their  rage  is  warmed  at  the  fierce  brood, 
Who  spoiled  the  world  before  the  flood  ; 
They  preach  of  Jews'  innumerous  quail, 
And  Jonah's  nauseated  whale  ; 
How  puffing  Levites,  fed  on  tithes, 
Cannons  and  catapults  despise, 
As  in  a  week  with  horns  they  blow 
Prostrate  the  walls  of  Jericho. 
How  Moses  seeks  in  vain  the  place 
Where  angels  buried  him,  to  trace  ; 
Of  how  the  sun  halts  in  the  sky, 
Bewildered  by  fierce  Joshua's  cry, 
That  Amorites  may  see  to  die. 

Perhaps  erroneous  creed  wakes  ire. 
Then  see  their  souls,  lit  with  the  fire 
Of  theologic  hate,  pour  strong, 
Hot  warning  from  the  burning  tongue. 
To  show  the  hopeless  state  of  those, 
Who  creed  "Homousion"  oppose. 


Dangers  of  Heresy.  113 

They  range  the  Gospel,  law,  and  psalms 

To  prove  just  how  "a  diphthong  damns, 

And  that  creed  "  Homoiousion," 

No  works  can  purge,  no  faith  atone. 

That  still  more  dread  mistake  they  make, 

Who  hope  on  "  Heterousion  "  stake  ; 

Till  gaping  congregations  dread 

An  extra  comma  in  their  creed, 

And  at  its  honest  aspect  quail, 

As  though  it  had  a  scorpion's  tail ; 

And  while  they  prove  sole  creed  that  '«  good 

Is  orte  that  can't  be  understood, 

The  grinning  skeptic  must  award 

The  praise  once  from  forecastle  heard, 

Of  Chaplain,  on  the  "Man  of  War," 

By  wondering,  amazed  Jack  Tar, 

Who  all  superfluous  language  scorned, 

"  Some  lies !  Some  lingo  !  All  damned  larned." 

Boundless  as  love  his  ignorance, 
His  thought  gross  as  his  arrogance, 
Hear  Moody  bellowing,  propound 
Unsyntaxed  gospel.     Tuneless  sound 
His  trumpet  blares,  whose  discord  shocks 
All  save  the  flop-eared  orthodox. 

With  dullness  flickering  on  his  face, 
He  prattles  of  the  "means  of  grace  ;  " 
Tells  how  all  men  to  hell  were  doomed, 
Save  for  an  Infinite  exhumed. 
Explains  to  fools  how  cross  besmeared 
Placates  a  Deity  who  reared 


114  "  Original  Sin.' ' 


On  earth  as  in  a  nursery 

Mankind  for  endless  misery, 

To  choke  Hell's  chimneys  with  the  soot 

Of  slow  combustion,  'cause  the  fruit 

That  Eve  ate,  breeding,  disagreed  — 

O  !  Rhadamanthus  !  what  a  creed. 

Logic  is  logic.     When  the  child 

Lies  in  the  womb,  by  sin  defiled, 

Faith  plants  beside  the  dying  bed 

A  bigot  with  a  shaven  head, 

To  watch  her  slow  and  laboring  sighs, 

Till  death's  film  gathers  on  her  eyes, ' 

Eager  to  seek,  with  keen-whet  knife, 

And  bring  to  day  the  fluttering  life ; 

For  should  its  faint  pulsations  cease 

Ere  he  had  coated  it  with  grease, 

His  God  would  clutch  it,  and  condemn 

The  fiendling  to  eternal  flame. 

But  chrism ed,  lo  !  his  fingers  slip, 

And  angels  aid  its  skyward  trip, 

Rejoicing  it  has  'scaped  his  ire, 

To  pule  with  Saints  in  Heaven's  choir. 

O  !  God  was  merciful,  to  plan 
Earth,  coursed  with  veins  petrolean, 
To  make  great  whales,  with  sperm  replete, 
Else  Mercy  might  forsake  her  seat. 


The  flabby  thought  of  Man's  nonage 
They  grave  expound,  with  aspect  sage, 
Where  painted  windows  make  an  air 
Unreal  as  their  vapid  prayer, 


?e  kind  to  the  Sister,  not  many  may  know" —  115 

Where  sneers  a  last  month's  bonnet  greet, 

And  broadcloth  snores  on  cushioned  seat. 

To  Paradise  their  hearers  flock, 

'Twixt  neat  hedge  rows  on  graveled  walk, 

As  narrow  path,  beset  with  thorns, 

Their  unctuous  eloquence  adorns. 

To  soothe  iheir  money-grasping  herds, 

They  strain  the  sense  of  Jesus'  words, 

Whose  Heaven  rewards  the  loving  poor, 

Whose  Hell  the  rich  man  must  endure, 

Aye  !  must !  because  he  in  advance, 

Claimed  earth,  his  Heaven,  at  their  expense. 

Their  sanctity  is  in  the  coat, 

Whose  single-row'd  black  buttons  show  't, 

Which  serve  them  as  phylactery 

Their  prototype,  the  Pharisee. 

They  curse  the  Theatre  and  Ball, 

But  when  the  husband's  absent,  call, 

To  poach,  with  risk  at  minimum, 

Upon  the  unprotected  home. 

Their  Heaven  's  below  a  frill  of  lace, 

Their  Hell  is,  hunger  for  a  sauce  ; 

They  mock  their  God,  on  sal'ries  fed, 

In  praying  for  their  daily  bread. 

In  Mass  or  Love-feast  they  divide, 

With  gluttons,  Jesus'  flesh  and  blood, 

Sole  remnant  left  of  law  divine 

Which  gave  men  equal  bread  and  wine. 

Oh  !  were  he  here,  the  dusty  Tramp 
Would  seal  their  foreheads  with  the  stamp, 
Branding  the  beetling  brow  of  Cain, 


116  The  modern  Evangelist. 


Who  sneer  to  see  their  brothers  slain 

By  insufficient  food,  and  rate 

Their  hunger  as  inordinate, 

Because  it  is  unsatisfied 

With  bread  well  soaked  in  Croton's  tide. 

(You've  read  of  Foulon — he  thought  hay 

Sufficient,  and  he  had  his  day.) 

That  Man  at  sight  the  knaves  might  know 

Who,  fat-jowled,  Zion's  trumpet  blow. 

Might  pierce  the  thin  disguise  of  each, 

Whose  love  has  bloom  in  flowers  of  speech ; 

Who,  answering  "  Call  of  Jesus  !  "  went 

As  chaplain  to  a  regiment — 

Leaping  o'er  corses,  that  its  wrath 

Left  stark  on  its  prayer-hallowed  path, 

To  worship  Glory,  and  declare 

The  Christianity  of  War. 

Might  shew  them  traitors  to  their  kind — 

Blind  leaders  of  the  stumbling  blind — 

Whose  selfish  pews,  salvation  priced, 

Force  Reason  to  detest  their  Christ. 

What  altar  's  that  they  bow  before, 
Whose  gaudy  temple  spurns  the  poor? 
Where  Fashion  throngs  in  gay  attire, 
Called  to  her  prayer  by  jingling  spire, 
To  see  the  perfumed  parish  bull, 
With  droning  rhetoric,  compel 
His  soporific  manuscript, 
Each  page  in  stronger  laud'num  dipped, 
To  shower  its  poppies  on  the  pews' 
Contributing  his  revenues  ? 


Palace  Cars  on  the  "Narrow  Way."  117 

While  sniffles,  done  to  order,  show 
The  clause  where  tears  should  overflow, 
And  whine,  and  dampened  kerchief,  fit 
The  place  where  pathos  has  been  writ. 
Where  once  a  week  the  organ  pours 
Its  grand  crescendos  to  the  stars, 
And  on  its  waves  of  harmony  floats 
The  quartette's  praise  in  gold-tuned  notes. 
Where,  save  that  hour,  their  drowsy  God 
Dreams  in  his  dusty  solitude, 
Nor  heeds  within  his  sacred  walls, 
Tho'  from  the  street  hoarse  Famine  calls. 
What  God,  but  Mammon,  could  attain 
Amid  Earth's  squalor,  Heaven's  Nirvan'  ? 

Aye !  Mammon  owns  the  church  called  Christ's, 

And  for  your  foes  you've  all  his  priests, 

Who  on  his  bounties  thrive,  and  shine 

In  rich  apparel  at  his  shrine ; 

Who  deave  man's  ear  with  jangling  din 

Of  diverse  modes  for  shriving  sin. 

Who  tell  how  God  in  justice  slew 

An  Innocent,  and  at  the  view 

Of  water  from  his  spear-pierced  side, 

Gushing  with  blood,  was  mollified, 

And  now  imputes  that  innocence 

To  whitewash  guilt,  in  penitence. 

Sometimes  'tis  God  himself  who  dies, 
Sometimes  a  man,  to  Heaven  who  hies, 
And  sits  'long-side,  to  intercede 
For  those,. eternally  decreed  . 


118        Sundry  modes  of  Vicarious  Atonement. 

His  clients — all  the  others — lost, 
Are  into  endless  torments  tossed, 
And  give  congenial  work  to  fiends, 
Happy  obeying  God's  commands. 

Some  say  his  mother  helps,  and  some 
Swear  that's  a  flagrant  lie  of  Rome  ; 
Some  think  the  saints  perhaps  of  use, 
Who  surplus  righteousness  produce, 
And  drop  their  linked  good  works  to  earth 
To  haul  up  sinners,  &c. ! 
But  all  on  the  main  point  agree, 
That  Man  earns  Heaven  by  deputy, 
That  pain  for  all  's  the  eternal  lot 
Save  those  for  whom  a  Christ-paid  scot 
Does  the  unbalanced  score  adjust ; 
O  !  what  a  pity,  God  gave  Trust ! 


'Tis  a  dull  legend,  cribbed  from  creed 
Of  fierce  Phenicia,  who  saw  bleed, 
On  royal  altar  sacrificed, 
The  son  of  her  power-grasping  priest ; 
Mixt  with  tales  told  by  travelers 
Of  Brahm's  and  Chrisna's  avatars, 
Aye,  growing  wilder  as  each  mile, 
They  journey,  adds  its  codicil, 
To  testament,  bequeathing  men 
Salvation  bought,  and  mercy  slain. 

Miscomprehended  theories 
Of  gold  abjuring  Essenes, 
With  Eleusinian  mysteries 


Inspiration !  119 


Padded  with  rural  miracles, 

Which  in  contrast  with  Moses'  seem 

Like  visions  of  an  idiot's  dream. 

Beside  phantasmagoria 

Of  opium  born,  in  minds  astray ; 

"Written  by  the  slow  hand  of  Faith, 

Rejoicing  in  his  mental  death, 

Whose  lolling  tongue  moved  with  the  style 

That  shaped  his  letters,  to  defile 

The  fabling,  papyritic  scroll, 

Recording  the  ideas  droll, 

That  deaf  men  have  of  martial  tunes, 

That  blind  men  have  of  phasing  moons. 

The  copy-books  of  baby  Man 
Unpunctuate,  without  a  plan, 
All  vowelless,  so  each  may  choose 
Translating,  a's,  e's,  i's,  o's,  u's, 
In  every  sentence,  and  rejoice, 
If  one  in  ten  gives  thought  a  voice. 

Inspired !  ha  !  ha !  Good  word  !     Inspired, 

Man  adolescent,  is  required 

To  think  each  manuscript  uncouth, 

As  queer  to  sight,  as  strange  to  truth. 

Inspired  !     Each  dusty  legend  shows 

That  mind  was  wearing  baby  clothes  ; 

Copied  by  monks  who  thought  that  God 

Waste  ingenuity  employed, 

In  framing  Man,  with  adequate 

Machinery  to  propagate ; 

Who  thought  that  Heaven  the  gelt  attain 


120  Ezekiel  vs.  Moses. 


With  greater  ease  than  Nature's  men. 
Inspired !     Lest  thought  its  readers  vex, 
The  "  Holy  Book  "  has  no  index, 
For  even  a  peasant  might  compare 
The  contradictions  that  appear 
On  every  page,  as  Reason  scans 
Its  ignorance,  and  knows  it — Man's. 


Yet  through  its  drivel  wisdom  glows, 

And  clearer  sense  than  words  inclose, 

Is  felt  in  thought,  beyond  the  reach 

Of  halting,  undeveloped  speech ; 

The  heart's  nutrition  of  its  lore, 

Drips  balm  and  perfume  in  the  core 

Of  being,  as  its  currents  thrill 

Response  to  Nature's  unit  will. 

And  sense,  that  lacks  expression,  deep 

In  central  life,  where  embryos  sleep, 

Where  force,  quiescent,  waits  its  birth, 

Lengthening  the  soul's  stretched  bond  to  earth; 

Seems  nebulous,  too  far  for  sight, 

Till  Reason  proves  its  starry  light. 

Instincts  no  reason  can  define, 

Beyond  its  grasp,  above  its  line, 

Tremble  to  pulses  vaguely  stirred, 

Quiver  to  accents  faintly  heard, 

Spoken  by  far-off  tongues  that  call 

For  answer  from  the  dumb  earth-thrall, 

In  wordless  meaning,  half  unveiled 

To  apprehension,  music-swelled, 

As  mind  through  longing  ears  may  catch 

The  concords  of  angelic  speech. 


•Sin  is  Death"  121 


For  trembling  hands  the  chords  have  felt — 

Untuned  by  hate  and  broke  by  guilt — 

Through  which  each  soul  the  passion  feels 

Of  Love  that  blesses,  as  it  heals. 

For  human  tongues  have  striven  to  voice 

Heaven's  liquid  melodies  across 

The  sad  and  solemn  dirge,  that  drones 

Around  the  path  of  life,  and  moans  * 

Faith's  hopeless  and  discordant  wail, 

How  misery  procreates  for  hell. 


Olla  podrida  !  'Tis  a  dish 

In  which  flesh  haters  can  find  fish, 

While  vis  a  vis,  of  different  taste, 

Enjoy,  as  well  as  they,  the  feast. 

Brain  cobwebs,  woven  by  the  ell 

In  navel-searching  hermit's  cell, 

And  wrapped  round  Plato's  "  Logos,"  seen 

Prancing  on  clouds  by  Constantine, 

Upon  his  bloody  path  enticed 

To  empire  by  a  murd'rous  Christ ; 

All  pinned  upon  his  cross,  who  strove 

To  shatter  power  by  human  love, 

And  bled,  as  will  his  like  until 

The  martyrs  turn  and  learn  to  kill. 

Sin !  when  an  axe  stroke  barks  the  tree, 
'T  is  cured  by  Nature's  chemistry  ; 
Bat  all  in  vain  her  healing  art 
When  the  keen  edge  has  cleft  the  heart. 
Nature  is  unit,  her  control 
Obeyed  by  matter,  so  by  soul ; 
9 


122  Jesus  vs.  Christ. 


And  her  recuperative  force 

Don't  resurrect,  but  blends  the  corse. 

The  soul  that 's  dead  in  sin,  decays, 

Losing  identity  and  place  ; 

No  sacrifice  can  sin  atone  ; 

It  dies,  but  when  it  is  out-grown. 

Aye.  Sin  must  be  eternal  Death, 

For  Life  in  Love  alone  hath  breath. 


Let  these  adore  their  gilded  God 

Who  sup  with  Usury,  fellow  Fraud, 

The  whip  of  knotted  cord  yet  knows 

The  tribe  that  felt  its  vengeful  blows. 

The  way-worn  traveler,  doing  good, 

Who  in  the  grain  fields  found  his  food, 

Who  taught  that  wealth  must  needs  be  crime, 

And  better  loved  a  Lazar's  grime, 

Who  lived  among  the  destitute, 

Whose  tears  reformed  the  dissolute  ; 

For  love's  rebuke  dissolves  the  heart 

Which  frenzies  by  invective's  smart ; 

Who  taught  the  lender  must  refrain 

From  hoping  to  receive  again ; 

Who  sought  the  lost,  who  helped  the  weak, 

Wiser  than  all,  yet  none  so  meek  : 

Who  claimed  no  cot  to  shield  his  head, 

Who  lived  for  love,  and  for  love  bled. 

Yet  thundered  Nature's  thorough  hate 

Of  pauper  souls,  whose  gaudy  state, 

With  gold  and  tinsel  decorate, 

Fluttering  their  span  in  pomp  and  pride, 

The  Brotherhood  of  man,  denied. 


-Religion  "  lorn  of  fear.  123 


What  has  he,  with  these  pulpiteers, 

Who  salary-fattened,  tickle  ears. 

Who  hypocritic,  masquerade 

Thro'  life  in  their  soul-saving  trade, 

Who,  thro'  their  dainty  lives,  ne'er  meet 

An  "  overalls  "  save  on  the  street, 

Or  save  when  creed  lies  like  a  pall 

On  a  dead  brain,  and  over  all 

The  instincts  with  which  Nature  tends 

To  shape  a  world  of  working  friends. 

In  glooms  of  ignorance,  their  control 
Has  blighted  brain  and  shriveled  soul, 
Has  held,  in  superstition's  spell, 
Mankind  by  slavish  dread  of  Hell. 
O'er  groping  centuries  they  brood, 
Engend'ring  their  revolting  creed, 
Whose  Deity,  with  raptured  ears, 
The  endless  moans  of  Misery  hears, 
From  burning  lake  where  wretches  writhe, 
Who're  damned  to  square  arrears  of  tithe  : 
While  shiv'ring  saints,  with  hoarsened  throat, 
On  clouds,  catarrhed,  through  ether  float 
And.  chant  his  praises,  golden  crowned, 
To  harps  unrosined,  and  untuned. 


The  most  malignant  hatred  known, 

Is  gendered  in  the  canting  drone, 

By  infidelity,  debarred 

From  rack,  and  thumb-screw,  stake  and  cord, 

Who  by  the  Age  denied  repast 

On  blood  of  heretics,  finds  a  feast — 


124  Theologic  Hate— the  Priest. 

The  sad  remains  of  luxury 
Enjoyed  in  his  prosperity  — 
In  hope  of  future  suffering 
For  those  who  mock  his  blunted  sting. 

He  who,  his  brother  threats  with  hell, 
Would  plunge  him  in  its  lowest  cell, 
And  lose  the  key,  lest  Mercy  ope 
The  prison-door,  to  let  in  Hope. 

What  is  a  priest  ?     A  thing  that  's  vowed 
Itself  'twixt  God  and  Man  to  crowd. 
Where  Hate  and  Ignorance  make  space 
'Tis  filled  up  by  that  vacant  face, 
Of  thought  incapable,  yet  stirred 
With  feverish  desire  to  gird 
At  all,  who  would  the  problem  broach, 
How  Man  to  God  may  make  approach. 

Behold  him  wider  force  apart 
The  loving  God  and  loving  heart, 
Distorting  death  that  lives  by  birth, 
And  moves  Man's  debris  from  the  earth, 
Because  his  progress  else  must  drag 
The  sniveling  dotard,  mumbling  hag, 
'Till  shadowed  by  Azrael's  wings, 
The  devotee  in  terror  clings 
To  life,  as  tho'  earth's  atmosphere 
Held  all  God's  love,  and  outside,  fear 
Met  boundless  wrath,  whose  pains  immerse 
A  woeful,  shrieking  universe. 
Tho'  Nature  dizens  out  the  tomb 


Damnation  before  judgment.  125 

With  fresher  verdure,  he  with  doom 
Thrusts  her  kind  hands  away,  and  waves 
Hell's  ensigns  o'er  life  springing  graves. 
He,  "profit "  to  his  purse  to  scare, 
Invents  a  death  beyond  despair, 
Leaves  consciousness  and  worms  contest 
Soul's  empire  thro'  its  long  unrest. 
For,  in  the  churchyard's  pestilent  soil 
It  hears  its  earth-friends'  hopeless  wail, 
Aware  of  its  abandonment, 
Forever,  by  their  sobbed  lament, 
And  helpless  feels  corruption  crawl 
Loathsome  and  lusty  thro'  its  thrall, 
Swelled  by  the  agonies  of  pain 
Felt  by  the  rotting,  brooding  train. 
Aye  !  hears  the  accusing  angels  cry 
Its  listed  crimes,  and  amplify 
The  endless  anguish  of  its  bode, 
Before  the  judgment  seat  of  God. 

Licked  by  the  flaming  tongues  that  leap 
By  his  device,  above  their  sleep, 
Who  in  God's-acre  lie  at  rest, 
Soft-pillowed  upon  Nature's  breast, 
To  scare  each  timid  proselyte 
Who,  blear-eyed,  blinks  at  Reason's  light, 
In  starched  and  rustling  overshirt 
See  him  vehemently  exhort 
Survivors  to  repent,  and  look 
Cross-wise,  in  dread  of  worser  luck. 
Aye !  see  the  mumbling  villain  vaunt 
How  Mercy  's  moved  but  by  his  chant, 


126  The  ^Medicine  Man" 


From  Purgatorial  fires  to  grant 
Relief  to  scorching,  sizzling  souls, 
Twirled  on  the  devil's  spit,  whose  howls 
Wake  Heaven's  derision,  till  his  palms 
By  Faith  are  filled  with  pity's  alms. 
For  Gold  has  power ;  beyond  the  grave 
Its  yellow  claws  can  reach,  and  save. 

Where  man  is  vilest,  fattest  seen 
The  canting  would-be  go-between. 
As  Science,  for  her  widening  spheres 
Asks  fact-fed  brains,  he  disappears ; 
Slowly  !     So  slowly !  close  he'll  cleave 
To  rented  pews,  while  fools  believe. 

From  Patton  to  th'  Ojibwennos 

Is  not  so  far  as  you'd  suppose  ! 

I've  seen  him  in  a  breech-clout  there 

Howling  to  God  a  prancing  prayer ; 

And  here,  in  surplice,  heard  him  plain 

That  same  old  prayer, — he  prayed  for  rain  ! 

Th'  Ojibway  Patton  never  saw 

A  weather  notice, — this  one  !  Faugh  ! 


From  age  to  age  mens'  brains  ferment 

And  leaven  life  with  discontent. 

The  dead  in  thought  are  those  that  mourn 

The  dead  past,  stinking  in  its  urn. 

The  lowest  type  of  life  is  that 

With  shell  outside,  and  inside,  fat. 

To  it  are  bigots  kin ;  they  dwell 

In  creeds  as  mussel  in  its.shelj. 


The  Spiritual  Oyster.  127 

Develop  them,  they  but  disclose 

How  big  each  little  mussel  grows : 

For  shut  within  his  stifling  cell, 

He  has  but  little  room  to  swell ; 

So,  to  expand,  outside  his  creed 

Must  find  his  force,  and  growing  bleed, 

Till  all  his  little  pool  shows  tinge, 

Whene'er  his  fellows  squeeze  his  hinge. 

Example  ?     See  on  Thomas'  back 

A  narrow,  out-grown  shelly  speck, 

His  brethren  pinch  it,  hear  him  shout 

"  Auch  !     I'll  get  in  !— I  am  not  out ! " 

Then  hear  Swing,  who  with  half  a  Christ 

His  theater  can  fill,  insist, 

That  if  the  mussel  's  grown  a  whale, 

The  pond  should  bear  its  flopping  tail. 

O  !  Swing,  O  !  Thomas,  what  mistake 

In  end  so  great,  as  to  forsake 

Nature's  broad  volume,  whose  each  page 

Well  read,  would  make  a  fool,  a  sage, 

And  ponder  over  dog-eared  leaves 

That  only  Ignorance  believes. 

Why  squeeze  these  husks  of  sapless  thought 

With  wretchedness  to  mankind  fraught, 

When  Nature's  juices  fill  her  cup 

With  wisdom  pearled  for  who  dare  sup. 

Do  notions  of  the  Infinite, 

Of  Sin  and  Holiness,  Wrong  and  Right, 

Display  in  Man,  exception  strange 

To  law  of  slow,  but  constant  change, 

Which,  from  his  myriad  discontents, 

Develops  strength  in  stumbling  sense?  ;, 


128  Creed  vs.  Progress. 

Has  man  in  any  Christian  creed 

Found  ultimate  of  moral  need  ? 

Something  so  fixed,  invariable, 

He  can't  beyond  its  limit  swell  ? 

Something  which  Reason  must  admit 

For  every  social  phase  is  fit  ? 

Some  system  reared  so  wide  and  high 

That  o'er  it  Progress  can  not  fly, 

So  firmly  grouted,  and  so  deep 

That  'neath  it  Progress  can  not  creep  ? 

No  !  Pundits !  Brahmins  !  Look !  the  star 
Which  yesterday  was  fixed, — afar — 
In  the  high  heavens  beyond  their  ken, 
Now  swings  above  their  heads,  and  men 
Laugh  at  the  smoky  lantern  light 
Pendant  to  tail  of  Chinese  kite. 
The  dragon  that  appeared  so  high 
And  fearful  in  their  frightened  sky, 
Is  shaped  of  paper,  tallow  lit, 
And  scales  that  scared  them  wake  their  wit. 
By  every  eye  the  fraud  's  discerned ; 
The  wise  and  foolish,  simple,  learned, 
Each  finds  his  Reason  to  dissent 
At  Creed's  preposterous  firmament, 
And  all  contemptuous,  point  the  twine 
That  floats  the  star  they  thought  divine. 
The  Star  that  one  epoch  dismayed, 
With  sneers,  by  its  successor  's  weighed, 
While  prophets  throng  with  purblind  eyes 
Peering  thro'  mists  at  empty  skies, 
And  in  the  empyrean  show 


To-day's  Religion  to-morrow's  Mythology.      129 

Another  tallow  dip  aglow, 

And  to  another  dragon's  scare 

Man's  trembling  knees  are  bent  in  prayer, 

Until  his  quickened  sight  reveals 

The  pasted  monster,  as  he  kneels, 

Bobbing  behind  the  chimney-pot, 

On  which  its  tangled  string  has  caught. 

The  ideals  of  a  by-gone  age 
That  nursed  its  dolt  and  fed  its  sage, 
Revolt  their  children,  whose  disgust 
Spits  out  their  sapless,  cindered  crust. 
To-day  the  God  is  criticized, 
To-morrow  he'll  be  analyzed, 
Before  whose  creed-erected  throne 
Men  yesterday  lay  cowed  and  prone. 
Product  of  Nature,  her  Son  shames 
His  mother,  as  his  gross  faith  claims 
Some  intermeddling,  prayer-waked  force 
To  change  her  law  and  turn  her  course. 
The  wheels  of  progress,  while  Man  prays, 
Stick  in  the  mud  till  he  decays, 
For  Hercules  ne'er  aided  zeal 
That  put  no  shoulder  to  the  wheel. 

As  springs  burst  sparkling  from  Earth's  veins, 

So  thought  pours  out  from  fact-fed  brains ; 

Fill  them  with  legends,  mysteries, 

And  dismal  saint  biographies, 

The  spring  is  in  the  cistern  drowned, 

And  spigot  tongues  the  eaves  expound. 

Receptacles  that  can  not  think  ; 


130       .      Experience  sole  source  of  Wisdom. 


So  bigots'  brains,  like  cisterns,  stink, 
Facts  bring  conviction  ;  argument 
May  silence  but  it  can't  content, 
Logic  may  prove  that  fire  will  burn, 
But  from  the  grate  no  child  will  turn  ; 
Forbid  him  touch — in  vain  you  chide, 
Until  the  experiment  is  tried : 
The  warnings  of  the  boding  sire 
Can  not  his  son  with  fear  inspire. 
For  Nature's  reason  owns  no  prince, 
Authority  can  not  convince. 
Experience  is  the  only  school 
For  Reason.     Solomon  's  a  fool, 
For  saying  that  his  wisdom  's  naught, 
Who  must  be  by  experience  taught. 
Awed  by  a  name,  Man  may  believe 
What  understanding  can't  conceive, 
But  mind  decays,  its  food  refused, 
And  Reason  dies  by  Faith  abased. 

Man's  senses  are  the  avenues 

A  sane  soul  travels.     Reason  knows 

No  light  but  science  for  a  guide, 

To  steer  him  thro'  life's  troubled  tide. 

Who  loses  that  has  stripped  his  bark 

Of  canvas,  and  a  helpless  ark, 

Like  lonely  Noah's,  sealed  from  light, 

Floats,  in  an  ever  darkening  night 

O'er  progress  debris-washing  flood, 

With  thaumaturgic  Gods  bestrewed. 

'Tis  by  dead-reckoning  the  ship 

Computes  her  .place,  and  ends  her  trip. 


Inward  Light — Insanity.  131 


By  compass  taught,  the  vagrant  sail 

Still  homeward  heads,  despite  the  gale. 

No  "  Inward  Light"  has  God  bestowed 

Eclipsing  Reason,  to  enshroud 

Life's  sea  with  vapors,  and  compel 

The  helm  abjure  the  binnacle. 

Such  lights  's  evolved  of  mind's  decay, 

As  phosphor  lends  a  gloomy  ray, 

When  slowly  burned  on  Nature's  hearth, 

Dead  vegetation  blends  with  Earth. 

No  room  for  adjuncts,  Nature  grants, 

They  but  hallucinate  the  sense, 

Dethroning  Reason  in  the  brain, 

Man  's  idiotic  or  insane. 

Or  sits,  a  King,  with  skulls  for  throne, 

A  knout  his  sceptre,  straws  his  crown ; 

Or  cow'ring  crawls,  with  lolling  tongue, 

And  dribbling  lips,  to  meet  the  thong. 

Light,  thro'  Faith  's  smoking  frankincense, 

Of  things  unseen  has  evidence  ; 

Belief  in  visions,  frenzied  mind, 

Alone,  can  in  thought's  vacuum  find. 

Men  crazed  by  sin,  reformed,  amaze 

The  gods,  held  by  another  craze ; 

So  Dipsomania  is  cured, 

By  Theomania  endured, 

New  dissipation  takes  the  place 

Of  th'  old,  by  Fashion,  made  disgrace, 

And  any  vice  by  Faith  subdued, 

Leaves  man  upon  his  knees,  at  feud 

With  natural  eyesight,  by  God  given, 

To  see,  not  grope,  the  road  to  Heaven.  _. 


132  Moody 's  "Specific." 

Faults,  we  have  courage  to  confess, 
We  're  always  able  to  redress ; 
Sincerity  repairs  the  shame 
They  have  inflicted  on  our  fame ; 
But  men  confessing  small  faults,  state, 
In  substance,  that  they  have  no  great. 
So  scoundrels  manage  to  conceal 
Their  crimes,  who  blemishes  reveal. 

How  is  it  that  Faith's  converts  show 
So  little  to  confess  ?     You  '11  know 
Next  year,  when  loud  profession  wins 
More  scope  for  undetected  sins. 
When  the  dog's  vomit  in  his  pew 
Stinks  through  reporter's  interview, 
Until  it  sickens  the  profane, 
While  sniffing  brothers  mop  the  stain. 

Ah !  Strove  we,  half  as  hard,  to  win 
Perfection  as  to  hide  our  sin, 
And  seem  it,  personating  lies, 
Our  real  standing  to  disguise, 
We  might  our  proper  selves  appear, 
And  live  without  detection's  fear. 
But  Life  is  endless  masquerade, 
No  soul  in  its  own  garments  clad ; 
Disguised  to  others,  we,  at  last, 
Have  from  self-recognition  passed. 
And  superstition  builds  his  throne 
Where  Man  is,  to  himself,  unknown. 
Man  has  reached  Wisdom's  limit,  when 
He  knows  himself,  he  knows  all  men. 


Reasoning  "  a  posteriori"  183 

Since  Aristotle  theorized, 

And  Nature's  open  book  misprized, 

Since  rays  supernal  chased  his  mist, 

And  Saul  beheld  a  cloud-built  Christ, 

Since  errant  dead  mens'  trooping  feet 

Tramped  aimless  thro'  scared  Zion's  street, 

Since  gibbering  men  pied  consonants, 

In  pentecostal  dissonance, 

And  unknown  tongues  gave  language  shape, 

Unfit  for  thoughts  of  chattering  ape, 

The  "child  of  Faith"  feels  something  hum 

In  his  brain-addled  cranium, 

Calls  it  "New  Birth"  each  sense-nerve  crossed 

And  palsied  by  the  Holy  Ghost. 

Discards  his  vision, — for  insane 

Imagination  paints  on  brain 

More  glowing  colors  than  are  seen 

In  Nature's  russet,  blue,  and  green, — 

And  can  not  rest  till  he  compels 

All  men  to  use  his  spectacles, 

And  claims  God  gave  them  him,  to  make 

Man  know  his  retina's  mistake  ; 

So,  goggle-blinded,  can  not  see 

Tho'  Nature  points  his  Deity, 

But  upward  rolls  his  hazy  eyes 

To  supplicate  the  empty  skies. 


That  Man  was  meant  to  sit,  is  plain ; 
Buttocks,  like  knees  would  else  be  lean. 
But  Nature,  with  a  pedigree 
Of  Saints  can't  breed  a  cushioned  knee ; 
Knees  would  be  padded  were  th'  intent 


134  Prayer  inconsequent. 

Of  nature,  that  they  should  be  bent, 

That  genuflection  's  held  in  scorn. 

She  proves,  protecting  them  with  horn, 

And  progress  grows  irrational, 

If  Man  's  a  praying  animal. 

Brute  eyes  look  upward.     Nature  plans 

His  sight  for  different  use  in  Man's ; 

His  seek  a  level ;  Nature's  lore 

Ne'er  taught  a  human  eye  to  adore. 

Man  is  a  dog,  who  looks  above 

To  find  an  object  for  his  love ; 

Who  fawns  for  pats,  and  refuse  meats, 

In  gates  of  pearl,  and  golden  streets, 

Valhalla's  mead,  or  fat  houris 

Waiting  for  Faith  in  Paradise. 

Or  drops  his  wagging  tail  to  slink 

As  whip-cracks  hearing  Hell's  coals  clink. 

Love  scarce  the  glowing  sun  can  reach 

Tho'  framed  in  prayer  with  deftest  speech, 

Yet  his  down-pouring  beams  are  hot 

With  Nature's  love,  by  God  begot, — 

Life  from  above,  to  Earth  descends, 

As  gentle  shower  with  sunshine  blends, 

But  pestilence  in  mist  exhales 

And  death  floats  on  its  steaming  gales. 

So  prayer  with  plague  is  pestilent, 

Floating  toward  the  firmament. 

Love's  source,  inimitably  far 

Beyond  the  sun,  above  the  star, 

From  its  circumferent  center  whirls 

In  endless  waltz,  the  panting  worlds. 

He  who  would  strive  such  height  to  attain, 


G-od  is  Love.  135 


Must  be,  or  idiot  or  insane. 

They're  idiots,  whose  praise  would  swell 

The  glories  of  the  Ineffable. 

Who,  but  th'  insane  would  kneel  to  move 

Love  Infinite,  to  greater  love, 

Love  given  such  God  is  spent  in  air, 

Is  wasted  force,  blown  off  in  prayer. 

Love  is  'twixt  equals,- — Pity  blends, 

And  all  below,  Love  comprehends, 

In  Man,  the  Omnipresent  's  near! 

In  Man,  he's  known, — lo !  God  is  here ! 

From  every  human  heart  his  call 

To  every  ear  is  musical, 

As  He,  for  incense  begs,  and  wins 

His  perfume  from  forgiven  sins. 

Forgiven  by  Man,  whose  Love  condones 

The  wrong  that  penitence  atones, 

For  Nature's  God  can  not  forgive, 

No  life  can  break  his  law  and  live. 

Until  his  brother,  Man,  has  loved, 

God's  being  must  remain  unproved. 

Such  love  evolved  is  consequent 

Unloving  Nature  never  meant. 

But  God  with  higher  attributes 

Than  he  displays  in  savage  brutes, 

In  waving  trees  of  whose  branched  shade 

The  puny  undergrowth  's  afraid. 

In  waves  and  rocks  which  can  not  cease 

Contention  till  a  void  brings  peace. 

Burns  in  the  heart  when  pity's  wine 

Steams  fragrant  from  its  glowing  shrine ; 

Jove's  eagle  is  Cytheria's  dove, 

And  Reason  knows  that  God  is  Love. 


136  St.  Theresa. 


Sir  Reverence  is  bastard  born 
Of  love  and  fear ;  O  !  Brothers  scorn 
The  bye-blow :  where  he  reign  usurps, 
Instinct  and  sense  alike  he  warps. 
What  tropes  can  sanity  employ 
Describing  Faith;  when  its  alloy 
Dulls  Reason's  gold,  and  'wildered  sense 
Is  smothered  in  sir-reverence. 

See,  grinning  Bishops  now  parade 
Their  sensitive  and  sickly  maid, 
Whose  flesh  unwholesome  and  insane, 
From  Faith's  hysteric,  visioned  brain, 
Can  reproduce  the  bleeding  palm 
Of  Christ  the  crucified,  and  cram 
With  Stigmata,  their  waning  purse, 
While  pilgrims  wide  the  tale  rehearse, 
How  menstruating  hands  display 
The  agonies  of  Calvary. 

So,  too,  the  Moslem  Saint  can  boast 
His  body,  vital  with  the  ghost 
Of  hot  Mohammed,  when  it  bears 
All  Tayiff's  wounds  and  Abod's  scars, 
That  dancing  Dervishes  may  feel 
In  wilder  whirl  their  prophet's  zeal 
And  gain  "  backsheesh  "  till  at  their  death, 
Houris  reward  their  sweating  faith. 

So  Presbyterian  ardor  warms, 
When  u  Geazus  "  printed  on  the  arms 
Of  Irish  milkmaids,  is  the  mark 


Belfast  Miracle,  Oct.,  1858.  137 

Shows  wandering  soul,  has  found  her  ark  ; 
Where  safe  from  sin,  secure  she  rides, 
Nor  feels  the  force  of  passion's  tides, 
Whose  tumbling  seas  to  ripples  shrink, 
While  "  blueing  "  furnishes  the  ink, 
Tattooing  her  till  saints  confess  all, 
She's  "  born  again,"  a  "  chosen  vessel." 
And  hob-nailed  peasants,  shillings  spend, 
To  see  the  wonder,  while  they  bend 
In  reverent  awe,  to  hear  his  prayers 
Who  with  the  show,  gate-money  shares. 
Till  closer  contact  conquers  "grace," 
And  "fleshly  lust"  usurps  her  place. 

Thus  Creeds  are  spread  by  miracle, 

Where  Faith  can  bleed,  but  can  not  spell : 

And  like  the  mistress  of  a  priest 

From  purgatorial  fear  released, 

She  sins,  and  prays,  and  sins  by  turns, 

Prays  when  she's  cold,  sins  when  she  burns ; 

And  Gold  rewards  the  "  Pious  Fraud," 

While  Reason  jeers  her  shriveled  God. 

For  when  to  Christian  is  convert 

A  juggler,  passably  expert, 

As  in  their  chant,  the  rustle  's  lost, 

Of  spirit-rappers'  whisp'ring  ghost, 

His  tricks  seem  real,  to  the  throng, 

With  ears  confused  by  Zion's  song, 

So  surpliced  knavery  thrives  on  tax 

Faith  levies,  peddling  dismal  tracts, 

And  Fortune  is  his  sure  reward, 

Whose  God,  by  miracle  's  adored. 

10 


138  The  bigot  a  persecutor. 

No  race  on  Man  such  ills  have  wrought, 
As  they  who  worship  mummied  thought ; 
Who  from  the  bigot's  musty  tome, 
The  dogmas  of  dead  Faiths  exhume, 
And  scatter  their  aborted  stench 
The  life  of  Reason's  air  to  quench. 

So  St.  Augustine  lights  the  torch 
Whose  dampened  flames  Servetus  scorch ; 
And  Calvin's  ghost  writes  the  decree, 
Expelling  Swing  for  heresy. 
Now  Thomas'  legs  might  comprehend 
How  Scottish  boots  a  creed  can  mend, 
If  Bishop — Bishop — what's  his  name  ? 
Could,  as  he  would,  attain  Laud's  fame, 
And  Zeno's  school  fright  from  the  porch 
That  girds  his  mediaeval  church. 
Lake  park  might  smell  Swing  on  his  pyre, 
If  Patton's  will  had  Calvin's  power. 

Youth,  nauseate  with  creed  and  priest, 
Is  manhood's  ranting  Atheist, 
God,  demon  visaged,  creed  defiled, 
A  bestial  spectre,  scares  the  child 
From  shady  dells,  and  rippling  rills, 
Where  nature's  happy  larynx  trills, 
Perpetual  rapture-lilting  praise, 
Thro'  her  sweet  sunny  Sabbath  days ; 
And  stuns  his  aching,  shuddering  sense, 
In  darkened  room  with  discord  dense, 
Chorded  by  tuning-forks  of  Hell, 
Till  rage  his  prison  breaks  ; — then  yell 


The  Atheist  begot  by  the  bigot.  139 

Of  joy,  acraze  with  wrathful  glee, 
Proves  he's  escaped  Creed's  Nursery. 
Escaped,  alas !  with  drum-crushed  ears, 
Deaf  to  the  music  of  the  spheres, 
Surd  !  Nature's  anthem  he'll  deny, 
And  spend  a  life  to  prove  a  lie. 

So  Ingersoll  must  peddle  sneers 
At  him  who  Adam's  God  reveres. 
Must  shameless  deity  deride, 
Exhibiting  a  bare  backside, 
From  which  a  milder  radiance  flowed 
Than  blasted,  from  the  front  of  God, 
Who  wrestled  Jacob  at  Peniel, 
And  only  threw  him  by  "  a  foul ;" 
Who  heeding  Moses,  changed  his  mind, 
And  on  a  calf  with  Abraham  dined ; 
Then  vanished  from  scared  Sarai's  eyes, 
With  a  full  stomach,  to  the  skies ; 
Who  loved,  not  wisely,  Joseph's  spouse, 
And  decked  with  horns  the  joiner's  brows, 
Which,  hanging  from  each  pulpit,  shed 
Faith's  lustre  on  the  marvelous  creed. 

While  howling  Brahmins  mourn  the  days 
Of  purer  church — Auto-da-Fes, 
And  San-benitos,  whose  chained  gang 
Fledfco  the  fire,  from  Faith's  harangue. 
That  saving  flames  each  nose  might  fill 
With  reek  of  sizzling  Ingersoll. 
And  scare  to  pastures  orthodox, 
His  giggling  and  bewildered  flocks. 


140!  Atheism  barren. 


From  his  blind  alley  placards  stare, 
"No  exit  here!  No  thoroughfare  !  " 
For  him  the  Universe  is  void. 
Matter  alone,  by  matter  buoyed, 
Exists.     In  all  the  immense  of  space 
'Twixt  sun  and  sun  he  sees  no  trace 
Of  any  life,  save  that  close  bound 
By  force  of  gravity  to  ground, 
Tho'  every  inch  of  that  is  crammed 
With  sentience,  all  without  is  shamed 
By  emptiness  that  's  absolute, 
And  Matter  is  the  lonesome  fruit 
Of  thought-ungrasped  Infinity, 
Tho'  every  apple  proves  a  tree. 


The  Atheist's  prayer  is  to  be  cloyed. 

His  life  is  waste  when  unenjoyed, 

As  other  brutes;  no  scope  beyond 

This  little,  fretful,  jarring  round. 

If  vice  assure  a  happier  day, 

Why  homage  to  grim  virtue  pay ; 

Brain  only  finds  the  stomach  food ; 

Digestion  is  Man's  highest  good ; 

Work,  like  a  horse,  for  appetite 

In  which  a  monkey  finds  delight, 

Love,  eat,  drink,  sleep,  'tis  all  of  life ! 

Why  should  man  mar  his  days  with  strife, 

To  better  others,  if  his  gain 

Increases  by  their  added  pain? 

They're  fools  who  dream  Love's  law.    To  strong 

The  empires  of  the  world  belong ; 

Nature  awards  to  claws,  success, 


Scylla  and  Charybdis.  141 

And  hoofs  are  food  for  craftiness. 
Why  feel  remorse,  or  shame,  or  dread 
Of  wrong,  who  when  you  die  are  dead. 

When  Charles,  the  adulterer,  rolled  in  dust 

The  throne  of  England,  sun-lit  lust 

Of  strumpet  raptures  made  display 

To  poets  rhythmic  roundelay. 

Anteros  daubed  the  wings  of  Love, 

Priapus  spued  in  each  alcove, 

Maidens  were  bred  for  paramours 

And  virgins  learned  the  arts  of  whores. 

The  Atheist  was  the  fashion  then, 

Hobbes,  wisest  of  the  sons  of  men, 

Taught  courtiers  his  dismal  creed, 

And  virtue  vanished  from  the  bed. 

So  Atheism  breeds  despair, 

Of  human  lot, — nor  grants  an  heir 

To  Progress  as  Man  shrinks  to  beast 

Gorged  with  his  Barmecidal  feast. 

'Twixt  Scylla  and  Charybdis,  steer 
Man  may,  but  as  he  does,  must  fear. 
'Twixt  rocks  and  whirlpool  he  can  glide, 
In  safety,  but  on  Reason's  tide. 


Each  coarse  re  viler  and  reviled 

Has  but  defended,  or  assailed, 

A  goblin,  man-made,  in  the  dark 

Of  Time,  when  Reason  was  a  spark, 

And  all  was  miracle,  because 

Man  had  no  glimpse  of  Nature's  laws. 


142  There  is  a  God  ! 


They  see  not  that  the  Universe 
Proves  God,  in  Love  evolved  of  Force, 
That  far  beyond  the  highest  plane 
Imagination  can  attain, 
The  Unthinkable  's  revealed  by  Laws, 
Effect  still  generating  cause. 

There  is  a  God  !  The  valley's  grass, 

The  cedars  in  the  mountain  pass, 

The  yellowing  waves  of  rustling  grain, 

All  own  and  bless  his  loving  reign. 

The  insect  sporting  in  his  beams, 

The  elephant,  who  at  the  gleams 

Of  dawn,  salutes  the  orb  of  day, 

Alike  attest  and  own  his  sway. 

The  songs  of  birds  to  him  are  prayer ; 

The  thunder  cleansing  poisoned  air ; 

The  currents  which  forever  glide 

Thro'  ocean,  and  its  breathing  tide, 

Alike  an  Infinite  proclaim, 

As  raving  Force  in  Love  grows  tame  ; 

And  men  alone  who  can  not  rise 

Thro'  warring  clouds,  to  peaceful  skies, 

And  from  that  height,  see  furious  strife, 

But  wider  cast  the  seeds  of  Life, 

With  hearts  by  intellects  crushed,  have  said 

There  is  no  Love  !     There  is  no  God ! 

Shall  creeping  men,  who  claim  intent, 
Deny  it  to  the  Firmament  ? 
The  illimitable,  shoreless  stream, 
On  which  the  Universes  swim, 


The  stars  deride  the  Atheist.  143 


As  discs  in  circulating  blood, 
Is  there  no  sentience  in  its  flood  ? 
The  body  of  the  Infinite, 
Has  that  no  will-nerves  to  transmit 
From  Motion's  origin,  command, 
As  brain  controls  obedient  hand  ? 

Until  for  Space  men  limits  find, 
Through  it  must  reign  controlling  mind. 
If  space  has  limit,  every  world 
Would  be  toward  its  centre  hurled. 
Indrawn  by  gravity  its  course, 
Were  no  antagonistic  force. 
But  force,  centrifugal,  denies 
A  bound,  as  gravity  it  vies  ; 
And  motion  proves  that  infinite  soul 
O'er  infinite  matter  wields  control, 
Law-giver  is,  where  laws  exist : 
The  stars  deride  the  Atheist. 

Yea !  Love  alone  is  Sovereign  ! 
The  radiations  of  his  throne 
Fecundate,  vitalize,  control, 
Gross  matter,  and  etherial  soul. 
Earth  gasps  with  bliss  in  his  embrace ; 
Toward  him  the  stars,  untiring  race, 
Unjostling,  each,  his  law-marked  course, 
Speeds,  guided  by  his  brethrens'  force. 
Attraction  is  the  love  of  suns, 
Its  sway  obedient  matter  owns, 
And  love  's  the  attraction  that  incites 
The  earth-born  soul  to  heavenward  flights, 


144  The  Justice  of  the  future. 

The  world's  work  's  done  by  volunteers, 
Whose  wages  are  abuse  and  sneers, 
They  trample  fear  beneath  their  feet, 
And  half-way,  roar  of  Acheron  meet, 
•  Defending  rights  of  those  who  toss 
Dice-boxes  'neath  the  moaning  cross, 
And  laugh,  or  curse,  as  lot  grants  claim 
To  coats,  scourge-clotted,  torn  from  shame 
Above  them  hanging,  mocked  and  nude, 
Dying,  in  crowded  solitude. 

Tell  me,  O  Man,  is  Instinct  waste 
That  wages  hopeless  war  with  caste, 
Yet  gasping  fights,  and  fiercest  blows, 
While  agonizing,  strikes  your  foes  ? 
"  They  know  not  what  they  do  !     Forgive  ! 
I  die,  O  !  Father.     Love  must  live  ! " 
If  Nature  teaches,  they  who  earn 
Wealth  should  enjoy,  can  Justice  spurn 
Their  right,  who  plant  love's  seed  to  eat 
Somewhere,  its  mellow,  luscious  fruit, 
Or  is  such  love,  aborted  birth 
Unripe  for  Heaven,  unfit  for  Earth  ? 

:    .  • 

Gods !  if  the  Infinite  should  want 
Such  habitation,  Space  grows  scant, — 
Its  boundless  stretches  must  be  filled, 
Else  Justice  would  have  room,  and  build. 

When  atheist  mocks  and  bigot  raves, 
License  corrupts,  or  creed  enslaves.^ 
Such  quarrel  is  not  Man's.     They,  each, 


The  Levite  claims  the  " 'hind- quarter,          145 


The  brutal  creed  of  Mammon  teach : 

Though  progress  gains  when  Man  's  released, 

Even  by  the  atheist,  from  the  priest. 

For  priests  are  banded  to  support, 

The  Usurer,  Conquerer,  and  Court, 

And  trample  Reason  in  his  shell, 

While  selfish  atheists  rebel 

At  domination,  which  denies, 

Man's  right  to  eat  his  sacrifice. 


Each  weary  step  advance  has  gained, 
In  terror  won,  by  tears  is  stained, 
And  fettered  Reason's  tongue  or  pen, 
Moved  but  to  clank  the  bigot's  chain. 
The  oubliette,  beneath  his  sway, 
Or  stake,  or  gibbet,  claim  as  prey 
Man-aiding  Science  as  she  strives, 
Instinctively,  for  nobler  lives. 
The  crimsoned  Earth  thro'  aether  swings, 
Her  path  marked  by  the  blood  she  flings, 
When  priestcraft  aids  what  tyrants  plan, 
And  love  of  God  is  hate  of  man. 

But  for  abuses  Creed  exists. 

Better  mankind  were  Atheists, 

Than  thrice  a  year  with  off 'rings  plod, 

Foot-sore,  the  thronged  and  dusty  road, 

To  the  fat  Levite,  waiting  where, 

The  Sacrifice,  with  God  he'll  share. 

What  recks  he  what  the  people  ea,t, 

If  God  gets  smoke,  and  he  gets  meat.     , 

Better  if  such  God  is,  abjure 


146     Faith  the  same  in  Dahomey  and  Christendom. 

His  reign  who  delegates  his  power 

To  human  owls,  that  shun  the  light, 

And  seize  their  prey  in  Man's  twilight ; 

Who,  aping  look  of  wisdom,  hoot 

From  shadows,  in  their  fierce  pursuit 

Of  plunder,  with  funebral  tones, 

Dread  horrors  through  the  hearts  of  clowns. 

Did  Man  not  live  in  abject  fear, 

Stalled  Heaven  would  have  few  plaints  to  hear, 

For  did  he  not  a  future  dread, 

His  innate  force  would  limit  greed. 

Men  who  their  fetish  hold  in  awe 

Must  grovel  under  Mammon's  law  ; 

For  under  Mumbo  Jumbo,  brain 

By  sufferance  lives,  and  stomachs  reign. 

As  in  Dahomey,  human  meat 
Is  haled  to  shambles,  from  the  street ; 
See  the  cowed  victim,  bending  low, 
In  silent  stupor  wait  death's  blow  ; 
Faith  teaching  that  his  journey  lies 
Thro'  the  intestines  to  the  skies. 
There  priest  for  king  prepares  the  food 
Which  both  digest,  and  find  it  good, 
While  clanging  cymbals  notify 
The  sniffing,  waiting  Deity. 
Our  canting  anthropophagist 
Dresses  his  man  for  Mammon's  feast ; 
So  basting,  Faith-bedeviled  serf, 
With  bigotry's  thick-crusting  scurf, 
That  trussed  and  bound  he  quiet  lies, 


France  rescued  by  the  Atheist.  147 

A  cheerful,  willing  sacrifice, 

No  thought  of  struggle  crossing  mind 

To  meet  "  the  will  of  God  "—resigned. 


From  atheist  France  all  laws  derive 
By  which  to-day  her  people  thrive. 
For  twenty  millions  share  the  sward 
By  atheists  torn  from  priest  and  lord ; 
All  peasant  patriots,  they  band 
For  "Za  Patrie,"  "our  native  land." 
Frenchmen  have  wedded  France ;  no  force 
Land  from  her  lovers  can  divorce. 
No  castle's  battlements  appall 
The  landlord's  victim,  church's  thrall ; 
And  happy  homesteads  now  replace 
The  huts  of  a  misgoverned  race. 
No  cold  "our  country"  can  express 
His  hot  heart's  gloating  tenderness, 
For  life,  love-rooted  to  her  soil, 
Fragrant  with  brimming  wine  and  oil. 
'Twill  do  Americans  who  "  squat," 
Cast  household  goods  on  any  lot, 
Until  its  barren  waste  declares, 
Land,  to  be  fertile,  must  have  heirs. 
'Twill  do  for  Englishmen,  accursed 
By  Land  Monopoly,  the  worst 
Earth  's  seen  since  slavery  brought  doom 
On  alms-fed,  landlord-strangled  Rome. 
But  the  French  paysanne^s  burning  drouth 
For  land,  tears  from  her  infant's  mouth 
Her  brimmed  reluctant  teat,  to  stab 
Her  bosom  with  a  stranger's  babe. 


148  The  sword  of  Justice  double  edged. 


And  when  the  untimely  weanling  pules, 
The  father  with  his  child  condoles, 
"  Son  !  thou  may'st  die,  but  understand 
That  if  thou  livest,  thou'lt  have  land  !  " 


France,  robbed  to  bake  the  Eucharist, 

Was  rescued  by  the  Atheist ; 

For,  ere  the  Grand  Convention  broke 

By  his  strong  hands,  her  double  yoke,       * 

Her  toiling  men,  for  Luxury's  needs, 

T$y  taxes  starved,  were  fed  on  creeds. 

There  Nobles,  at  the  royal  feet 

Laid  price  appraised  of  judge's  seat, 

And  took,  as  lawful  gain,  the  fee 

That  paid  for  the  unjust  decree  ; 

Thus  one,  for  impotence  divorced, 

For  gross  seduction  was  amerced, 

And  double  edge  of  justice  felt ; 

Declared  both  ravisher,  and  gelt. 

His  genitals  declared  effete, 

Dower  was  returned  his  craving  mate. 

While  the  salacious  dog  repents 

His  bastard's  annual  expense. 

There  he  who  chanced  upon  the  street 

Poor  Capuchins  in  file  to  meet, 

Whose  leader,  on  paunch-fed  by  alms, 

Sustained  the  Host,  while  all  droned  psalms, 

And,  at  their  wafer-god  amused, 

His  wicked  hat,  to  doff,  refused  ; 

Had  cause  his  unbelief  to  mourn, 

When  from  his  mouth  his  tongue  was  torn  ; 


State  of  wealth  producers  governed  ly  tax-payers.  149 

When,  stretched  upon  the  creaking  rack, 
He  felt  his  perverse  sinews  crack, 
And  saw,  in  each  dissevered  wrist, 
Th'  atonement  Law  awarded  priest ; 
Not  paid,  till,  from  green  fagots  heaped 
Around  his  stake,  the  dull  flames  crept, 
That  in  slow  fire  burnt  out  his  sin, 
Who  ridiculed  a  Capuchin. 

J?here  Judges  sentenced,  every  year, 
Five  hundred  wretches  to  the  oar, 
Where,  naked,  chained  to  galley  bench, 
They  ate,  drank,  slept,  and  died  in  stench, 
Because  the  salt  that  Nature  craves, 
They  smuggled  to  their  fellow  slaves. 
And  power  the  curst  gabelle  assessed 
To  squander  it  on  lord  and  priest. 

These  wits  found  in  the  shiv'ring  brutes, 
'Round  Paris  grubbing  fields  for  roots, 
Such  semblance  to  the  human  shape, 
As  Darwin  now  might  find  in  ape ; 
Or  such  as  angry  Kearney  sees 
In  leper-bred,  ill-fed  Chinese ; 
Or  such  as  shocks  a  Democrat, 
When  first  he  sees  a  negro  vote ; 
Such  form  as  in  their  eyes  you  take, 
When  Joe  Medill  and  Story  quake, 
Fearing  their  clients  greenbacks  get, 
For  greenbacks  which  create  your  debt ; 
And  argued  learnedly  as  they, 
Of  natural  supremacy, 
Over  the  ragged  beasts,  of  those, 


150  Seignorial  Rights. 


Who  boasted  fat,  and  wore  good  clothes, 
Deep  based  and  framed  in  Nature's  facts, 
And  manifested  by  the  tax 
The  masters  paid,  each  centime  earned, 
And  forced  by  Law  from  those  they  spurned. 

There,  when  the  savage,  wintry  chase, 

Its  quarry  found  in  houseless  waste, 

The  chilly  noble  knew  defence  * 

Against  the  cold;  kind  Providence, 

Did  by  Seignorial  Right  direct 

The  feeble  Should  the  strong  protect ; 

He  slew  a  villein,  and  the  heat, 

Of  the  slashed  entrails  warmed  his  feet ; 

His  brother  serfs  looked  on,  content, 

With  their  place  in  God's  government, 

Well  taught  to  know  that  human  clay 

Th'  Almighty  potter  must  obey ; 

That  Providence  assigns  each  lot, 

As  sugar  bowl,  or  chamber  pot ; 

If  so,  could  not  his  wisdom  plan, 

A  foot-stove,  or  a  warming-pan. 

When  Luther's  match  had  touched  the  train 
Thought  scattered  on  Man's  waking  brain, 
The  Church,  whose  creed  controlled  the  world, 
From  her  wide-swaying  throne  was  hurled, 
Nor  were  th'  explosive  forces  spent, 
Till  Rome  lost  half  the  continent. 
Thro'  Germany,  each  peasant  home, 
Laughed  at  the  bellowing  Bulls  of  Rome; 
The  Switzer,  in  his  eyrie,  heard, 


The  Moral  of  a  Fable.  151 

Her  thunders  roll  below,  unstirred ; 
England,  whose  creed  was  ever  Gold, 
Careless,  indifferent,  heard  her  scold, 
And  Bull  for  Bull  bluff  Harry  sped, 
With  her  tiara  on  his  head. 

Man  gained  by  changing,  for  uthe  Book," 

Rome's  sceptre,  welded  to  a  crook, 

As  frogs,  when  great  King  Stork  has  died, 

His  loss  by  great  King  Log  supplied ; 

At  first,  they  venerate  the  thing, 

Such  turmoil  spreading  thrown  their  spring, 

Then  wiser  grow,  and  mock  their  king. 

Had  France  with  popes  been  discontent, 

Her  peasants  would  be  protestant ; 

But  there  the  priest  with  noble  joined, 

And  fraud  with  force  had  crushed  his  mind. 

The  Church  had  so  debased  the  Celt, 

No  sound  he  heard,  no  shock  he  felt ; 

Low  thro'  her  glooms  her  vassals  crept, 

High  o'er  his  head,  thought's  tempest  swept, 

And  never  changed  the  stagnant  air 

In  the  dark  crypts,  whence  his  dull  stare, 

In  horror  saw  the  lightnings  flash 

O'er  Europe's  firmament,  to  crash, 

The  swarming  towers,  where  o'er  him  stank, 

The  fat  and  filthy  tonsured  monk. 

Vengeance  but  waits !  A  later  time, 
In  blood  and  tears,  avenged  her  crime. 
Th'  infernal  force  of  Creed  was  spent, 


152  The  Resurrection  of  France. 

In  its  despite,  Thought  found  a  vent ; 

And  his  long  prisoned  gases  rushed, 

With  one  grand  throe,  thro'  Creed's  thick  crust. 

Light  on  his  darkness  broke ;  Man  saw, 

And  knew  his  jailer  in  the  Law. 

When  naked  Labor  felt  his  shame, 

The  hour  of  his  deliverance  came. 

Then  hear  him  shriek :  "  There  is  no  God !  " 

Taught  but  to  know  that  purpled  fraud, 

By  whose  aid  fat-paunched  bishops  stole, 

The  poor  man's  bread  and  starved  his  soul. 

H  • 

Mass-mumbling  priest  then  met  the  fate, 
He  earned,  as  jackal  for  "  the  great." 
For  Justice,  Mammon's  martyrs  bled, 
The  greedy  guillotine  they  fed, 
And  every  stroke  that  lopped  a  head, 
But  thinned  a  breed  for  plunder  bred. 

Freed  from  the  incubi  that,  squat 
Upon  her  breast,  long  ages  sat, 
France  sprang  to  life ;  the  feudal  corse, 
Thrilled  with  reviving  nature's  force, 
And  burst  the  cerements  which  wrapped 
The  limbs  that  now  to  Freedom  leaped. 
On  Human  Rights  she  based  her  laws ; 
And  tho'  to  reinstate  their  cause, 
Bourbon  and  priest  combine  their  skill, 
They  dare  not  thwart  a  people's  will. 
No  cunning  can  its  rule  restore, 
And  Creed  will  reign  in  France  no  more ; 
For  Man,  once  free,  can  but  despise 


Siamese  Twins.         •  153 


The  obscene,  revolting,  gem-decked  lies, 
Which  hang  upon  each  gaping  shrine, 
As  grapes  upon  a  fruitful  vine, 
And  feed  brute  faith,  by  relics  shown 
As  Christ's  foreskin,  or  Peter's  bone. 

In  France,  babes  laugh  when  friars  tell 
The  doleful  agonies  of  Hell. 
The  land,  of  all  lands  Orthodox, 
Now  more  than  all,  Religion  mocks. 


Aye  !     Better  far  no  God,  than  these 
Who  force  the  race  upon  its  knees 
Like  camels,  while  they  burdens  bind, 
Never  by  God,  for  Man,  designed. 
Who  claim  commission  from  the  skies 
To  govern  Man,  must  blind  his  eyes : 
Must  with  the  senseless  power  they  wield, 
Shame  Honor,  and  Corruption  shield : 
Must  rule  to  ruin,  reign  to  blast, 
And  on  the  present  force  the  past ; 
Still  shudd'ring  as  the  gates  of  dawn 
Herald  Love's  fast  approaching  morn. 

For  Creed  and  Power  are  sworn  allies. 
No  crow  pecks  out  another's  eyes. 
Like  Eng  and  Chang,  twins  Siamese, 
They're  coupled  in  all  villainies. 
They  bed  together ;  while  one  gasps 
In  bestial  bliss,  the  other  clasps 
The  victim's  arms,  and  fends  escape 
From  loathsome,  phagedenic  rape, 
ii 


Zion 'built  with  the  debris  of  Olympus. 

For  every  weight  that  Man  has  crushed, 

The  Church  has  been  apologist. 

Her  outworn  creeds,  like  bands  of  iron 

To  check  his  growth  his  thoughts  environ. 

She,  in  traditions  of  the  Jews, 

Finds  warrant  for  each  vile  abuse  ; 

The  small  dead  God  of  Palestine, 

She  swings  before  Man's  eyes,  to  screen 

All  infamies  that  fill  her  purse, 

And  knows  no  shame,  feels  no  remorse. 


Astonished  Paganism  paled, 

When  by  the  blood-stained  cross  assailed ; 

The  flow'ry  garlands  that  she  wove 

To  hang  in  chaste  Diana's  grove, 

The  myrtle  wreaths,  with  roses  twined, 

For  Father  Jupiter  designed, 

Dropped  from  her  nerveless,  frightened  hand, 

As  its  grim  Saint  shook  sword  and  brand 

Before  her  Nature-loving  eyes, 

And  claimed  her  temples  as  his  prize. 

He  robbed  her  ^Esculapius, 
Apollo,  Chrisna,  Adonais, 
Bacchus,  Prometheus,  Mercury, 
And  blent  them  in  his  deity. 
Then  stole  the  cross  from  Serapis, 
Stole  lessons  from  Pythagoras, 
Baptism  from  the  Essenes, 
Their  patient  neophyte's  surplice, 
Apollo's  gold  baptismal  font, 
To  use  Nundina's  sprinkler  on't, 


Conglomerate  strata  of  dead  Faiths.          155 

Mystic  regeneration  stole, 

And  poured  from  out  the  Delphian  bowl, 

Upon  a  figurative  womb, 

The  "  blood  of  sprinkling's  "  filthy  spume  ; 

So  Tauribolian  Christ  was  slain, 

So  Christian  convert 's  "  born  again." 

From  Eleusinian  mysteries  rent 

Their  supper,  called  it  "Sacrament," 

Took  Augur's  staff,  and  Janus'  keys, 

Took  Venus'  pigeons,  Aaron's  grease, 

Took  Nature's  worship  of  the  Sun, 

And  gave  it  to  his  "  Holy  One  ;  " 

Fixt  John  the  Baptist's  natal  day 

When  Sol  began  to  lose  his  sway, 

And  set  the  Anointed's  wondrous  birth 

When  he  returns  to  bless  an  earth^ 

Halved  by  a  creed,  whose  changing  year 

But  fits  the  northern  hemisphere. 

Stole  dreams  of  empire-hoping  Jews, 

And  called  their  drivel,  "prophecies," 

Mortared  the  dismal  farrago. 

With  second-death,  and  endless  woe  ; 

On  Paganism  forced  his  scheme, 

Till  Faith  o'er  Intellect  reigned,  supreme. 

Since,  so  the  Church  her  place  assured, 

Man's  reasoning  power  has  but  endured ; 

Advance  was  scarcely  possible, 

Against  Greed  reinforced  by  Hell. 


Thro'  every  air  her  jingling  chime 
Has  rung  her  raptures  over  crime, 
And  wickedness  that  has  no  word 


156  The  "Scarlet  Woman:' 

In  Nature's  tongue,  from  her  has  heard 
Its  chanted  praise,  in  blasphemies 
Attuned  to  rhythmic  melodies. 
Of  all  earth's  curses,  still  the  worst 
From  her  corrupted  womb  has  burst ; 
All  horrors,  infamies,  and  guilt, 
The  strumpet  fondles  'neath  the  quilt 
Of  brawling  prayers,  which  overspread 
Her  Mammon-pressed  adulterous  bed  ; 
For  Faith  exists  but  as  she  wars 
With  Reason,  and  his  vict'ries  mars. 


See,  from  her  racks,  the  wretches  crawl 
To  her  slow  stake,  and  roasted  fall 
Into  eternal  woe,  to  slake 
Her  thirst  for  power :  the  dread  mistake 
The  infernal  deity  may  shrive, 
Who  would  not  suffer  witch  to  live  ; 
But  sent  his  sin-destroying  priest 
Throughout  the  hamlets,  with  a  list 
Of  bed-rid,  toothless,  mumbling  age, 
That  lived  in  hot  concubinage 
With  the  arch  fiend,  whose  lack  of  taste 
Proves  him  untonsured,  if  unchaste, 
With  thumbscrews  oiled,  for  witnesses 
To  prove  their  arctic  wantonness. 


The  dazed  brains  that,  Walpurgis  night, 
On  broomsticks  took  their  cloud  -whirled  flight 
To  homage  Satan,  should  have  known 
They  could  have  bowed  before  his  throne, 
On  any  pleasant  Sabbath  day, 


Devil  Worship.  157 


When  frightened  children  fear  to  play, 
Tho'  Nature  beckon  to  the  gloom 
Within  their  shutter-darkened  room, 
And  tho'  she  spreads  illumined  book 
Before  swelled  eyes,  that  dare  not  look, 
To  some  damned  catechism  chained, 
Whose  every  page  with  tears  is  stained. 
Aye  !  could  have  found  an  open  Hell 
High-flaming  in  his  narrow  cell, 
Whose  scared  imagination  framed 
A  God  that  loved  him  better  maimed — 
Of  Nature's  virile  force  ashamed — 
Yet  feared  the  knife,  and  strove  his  seed 
To  quell  by  hair-shirt,  fast,  and  bead ; 
Who  sought  his  balky  soul  to  urge 
Toward  Heaven,  with  the  moaning  scourge 
Whose  appetite,  by  Faith  depraved, 
'For  ashes,  as  a  luxury  craved  ; 
Whose  Heaven-revolting  discipline 
Made  sack-cloth  grateful  to  his  skin, 
And,  prostrate,  on  his  stony  floor 
In  sanious  anguish  lay,  to  adore 
His  blear-eyed  deity, — an  elf 
Dwarf  image  of  his  monstrous  self, 
That  blinked  approval  from  its  shelf. 

When  wak'ning  Conscience  stood  in  awe 
Of  "  property  in  man  "  by  law, 
With  slavocrats  in  power  allied, 
Her  besom  struggled  with  the  tide, 
Which  rolled  with  Love's  resistless  force 
To  sweep  from  earth  its  coiling  curse. 


158  Coricubitusfacit  Matrimoniam. 

And  she,  who  shudders  at  their  crime, 

Whose  feet  to  violins  keep  time, 

With  raptures  gasped  in  their  embrace, 

Who  brutalized  by  law  a  race. 

Magentius'  horrid  punishment 

To  her  was  holy  sacrament. 

She,  too,  with  living,  chained  the  dead, 

And  Bondage  with  Free  Labor  wed  ; 

Her  God  invoked  to  bless  the  bond, 

Tho'  Slavery  stank,  and  Freedom  swooned. 

While  every  canting  pulpit  sought 

To  tighten  matrimonial  knot, 

Epithalamiums  she  sang, 

Joy  bells  in  every  steeple  rang, 

And  temple-clouding  censers  swung, 

While  round  his  neck  her  foul  arms  clung, 

Tho' Free  Thought,  Free  Speech,  Free  Press 

died, 
Where  to  the  rotting  carcass  tied. 


Behold  the  "Child  of  many  prayers  " 
The  unnatural  alliance  rears  : 
Its  offspring  such  as  leap  to  birth 
When  sons  of  God  consort  on  earth 
With  lustful  maids,  and  rear  a  brood 
Of  fiendlings,  who  in  Heaven's  flood 
Are  drowned  as  War's  remorseless  wave 
Engulfs  the  master,  frees  the  slave. 

She  prattled  of  the  curse  of  Ham, 
And  quoted  texts  of  Abraham ; 
Long  .on  Onesimus  she  stood, 


Mrs.  Partington.  159' 


And  battled  with  the  rising  flood, 
Against  a  wild  Atlantic's  spume 
Wielded  her  dust-compelling  broom, 
Indignant  that  the  increasing  wave 
Of  Reason  floated  off  the  Slave. 

She  stood  upon  Thought's  battle-field, 

And  with  brass  pot-lid  strove  to  shield 

Her  bigot  troops,  from  hurtling  rain 

Of  argument  aimed  at  the  brain, 

And  sped  from  bows  whose  strings  were  tense 

With  twanging,  tendinous  common  sense. 

Men  who  for  half  a  century 

Had  droned  her  doleful  litany, 

Yet  felt  an  arrow  wound,  and  bled, 

As  pity  rankled  in  their  creed, 

She  blasted  with  contempt,  and  drove 

From  ranks  all  terrified  at  Love. 

She  forced  her  Christ  to  justify 
The  infamous,  unnatural  lie. 
Resolved  that  Slavocrats  might  feed 
Upon  his  flesh,  and  drink  his  blood, 
Yet,  shielded  by  that  text  of  Paul's, 
Drink  no  damnation  to  their  souls. 
With  sins  per  se,  et  a  lege 
Chopped  logic  with  her  deity . 
And  all  her  skill  and  wit  were  spent 
In  finding  out  what  " doulos"  meant; 
While  Man  was  deafened  with  her  bray, 
"  Douloi"  their  masters  must  obey. 


160  Domestic  and  foreign  Missions. 

That  the  man-stealer's  legacy 
She  might  to  "  pious  use  "  apply, 
She  taught  Theology  for  gold, 
Received  as  price  of  maidens  sold 
To  speculating  brutes,  who  dealt 
In  "  fancy  girls,"  and  never  felt 
Shame's  tinge  upon  her  sallow  cheek, 
But  read  her  testament  in  Greek 
Upon  her  horny  knees,  and  prayed 
For  the  salvation  of  the  maid, 
Consigned  to  Hell,  to  send  the  news 
Of  resurrection  to  the  Jews ; 
Then  rose,  her  consignee  to  rate 
As  lost,  and  "unregenerate,*' 
If  "trade  was  dull,"  and  "short  return" 
Was  of  a  soul's  pollution  born. 

When  a  long  life  of  legal  theft 

Dropped  from  Earth's  gloom,  and  Hades  cleft, 

And  deathbed's  conscience'  heir  lost  grip 

By  will,  upon  his  father's  whip, 

She  —  Jesus  hear  it !  —  sent  the  freed 

To  Africa,  to  teach  her  creed. 

To  frighten  fetish  worshippers, 
Taught  Hell  to  her  interpreters  ; 
And,  spectacled,  read  their  reports 
Of  "added  souls,"  in  annual  courts, 
Delighted  when  the  boasting  scribe 
Told  of  a  half-converted  tribe ; 
Tho'  the  deciphered  paragraph, 
Intend  each  convert's  upper  half. 


The  Church  loves  Man.  161 

As  ladies  swung  their  crinoline, 

To  show  contempt  for  Union  men, 

In  New  Orleans,  when  Butler's  wit 

Upon  Secessia's  garments  lit, 

And  taught  her  jeering  legs  to  hide 

More  gracefully,  her  angered  pride  ; 

Now  see  this  withered  beldam  frown, 

And  jerk  aside  her  greasy  gown, 

Her  senile  scorn  to  indicate, 

When  Love  with  Reason  holds  debate, 

How  force  from  Greed,  for  Nature's  heir — 

How  save  for  Toil  his  righteous  share 

Of  wealth  from  Labor  robbed,  and  spent 

In  luxuries  ;  tho'  Nature  meant 

In  granting  it,  Man  to  assure 

Equality,  for  she  no  poor 

Nor  rich  will  foster.     From  her  loaf 

Should  all  men  cut,  there  's  bread  enough. 

The  Church  loves  Man!     Oh!  well! — how  well 

All  lips  irrational  can  tell, 

Whose  love  is  lust ;  such  love  as  this 

Can  copulate,  but  never  kiss. 

Now  from  each  cross-road  hear  the  squeak 

Of  weak-lunged  Boanerges,  break 

The  quiet  of  the  Sabbath  eve, 

And  of  their  atheism  rave, 

Who  hold  the  Domesday-law  unjust, 

As  starving  love,  it  fattens  lust; 

To  petty  tyrants  parcelling  land, 

That  built  on  fences,  thrones  may  stand, 


162  Feudal  System. 


And  for  an  age  perpetuate 
A  system  based  on  Norman  hate, 
And  Saxon  impotence  ;  for  Gurth, 
Born  thrall  of  Rufus,  tills  his  earth. 
Where  deeds  and  patents  spoilers  yield 
Law's  title  to  Man's  ravished  field, 
Who  but  the  priests  of  Mammon  shriek 
His  curses  at  the  men  who  seek 
To  shatter  to  foundation  stone 
The  system  laws  are  built  upon, 
Which  concentrate  all  wealth,  and  force 
On  Labor,  wed  to  land,  divorce. 

Who  dare,  but  Mammon's  priests  to  rend 
Asunder  those  whom  God  hath  joined  ? 
Aye  !  who  but  they  dare  prostitute 
Toil's  wife,  that  she  must  yield  her  fruit 
To  incarnated  Greed,  and  doom 
Her  teeming  and  prolific  womb 
To  breed,  instead  of  God-like  Man, 
Deformed,  misshapen  Caliban, 
Who  from  her  shamed  bed  driven  forth, 
Wanders,  trespasser  on  the  earth, 
And  till  death  settles  Nature's  debt 
Must  crave  his  fellows'  leave  to  sweat. 

Where  e'er  she  claims  to  rule  mankind, 
And  seeks  on  earth  her  realm  to  find, 
Religion  governs  but  to  curse, 
As  Progress  gains  she  meets  reverse  ; 
So  Man's  advance  is  measured  by 
The  loss  of  meddling  Deity. 


Progress  rejects  all  forms  of  Religion.        163 

O !  Toilers,  in  Religion  know 

Your  craftiest  and  meanest  foe. 

As  well  expect  Cholula's  priests, 

Fattened  on  their  inhuman  feasts, — 

Who,  'ere  the  off 'ring  parts  with  life, 

Beneath  the  sacrificial  knife, 

Ravening,  upon  the  victim  dart, 

Tear  from  his  breast  his  quiv'ring  heart, 

And  quaff  the  spurting  sacrifice 

To  win  the  favor  of  the  sl^ies, — 

Should  sicken  at  the  taste  of  blood, 

And  quench  the  altars  of  their  God, 

As  hope  for  help  from  those  whose  gain 

Is  won  from  shriveled,  torpid  brain, 

Who  thro?  the  dreary  ages  bind 

Faith's  fetters  on  distorted  mind, 

And  on  Toil's  shoulders,  galled  and  worn, 

Bind  burdens  grievous  to  be  borne ; 

Nor  yield  a  finger's  strength  to  aid 

Him  staggering  beneath  the  load  ; 

But  mouth  their  mingled  diatribe, 

Of  Church's  curse,  and  Mammon's  jibe, — 

Perdition  here,  and  Hell  his  lot, 

Who  dares  attempt  to  cut  the  knot, 

With  which  the  Lilliputs  have  bound 

Their  monster  —  Man  —  upon  the  ground 

He  slept  on,  while  they,  crafty,  wound 

His  limbs  in  laws  that  aggregate 

The  skill  of  Creed  and  strength  of  Hate, 

Lest  Labor,  lord  of  land,  and  free 

From  paralyzing  usury, 

Should  from  his  Heaven-erected  face 


164 


The  sordid  lines  of  Greed  efface, 
And  by  his  just,  and  gentle  reign, 
Drive  Serf  and  King  from  his  domain : 
And  smiling  skies  should  greet  an  earth, 
Whose  laughing  harvests  banish  dearth, 
While  in  deserted  mines  but  Gnomes 
And  Kobolds  find  congenial  homes. 

When  knaves  climb  Sinai,  God  is  sure 
To  warrant  robbery  of  the  poor. 
When  Moses  journeys,  Levites  feast, 
And  "  Brother  Aaron  "  is  high  priest, 
The  Heavens  are  wise,  they  know  to  choose, 
The  seed  of  Amram  rules  the  Jews. 
So  always  they  will  answer  prayer, 
When  fools  believe  that  God  is  there. 


The  Demagogue.  165 


Alas !  Your  straggling  ranks  disclose 
Even  in  your  midst,  a  host  of  foes. 
Still  Judas  waits  with  thin-pressed  lip 
And  itching  palm,  his  price  to  grip. 
For  blatant  demagogues  and  loud 
Will  to  the  wall,  your  honest  crowd. 
With  brazen  lungs  will  claim  the  right 
To  bear  your  standards  thro'  the  fight. 

In  every  parliament  of  rats 

Some  blatant  speaker  bells  the  cats, 

The  first  to  lead  the  van  of  flight 

When  "  miaeou  "  quavers  on  the  night. 

When  Nero  reigns,  the  timid  pass 

For  wise  men  with  the  frightened  mass, 

Who  hide  in  cowed  apostacy  ; 

Tho'  wisdom  then  's  audacity. 

When  safety  hangs  on  accident, 

And  Man  by  circumstance  is  pent ; 

As  fumbling  fear  escape  debates, 

A  spice  of  madness  extricates. 

If  you  to  their  direction  yield, 

Your  hosts  fly  scattered  from  the  field, 

Where  the  ne'er-ending  battles  rage, 

Labor  with  Capital  must  wage. 

For  they  will  seek  to  compromise 

Your  principles  to  gain  allies, 

Whose  wav'ring  lines  but  court  defeat, 

Nor  dare,  in  phalanx,  spurn  retreat. 

When,  answering  their  ambitious  prayer, 
You  seat  them  in  the  curule  chair, 


166  Tilden. 


They'll  pocket  bribes,  and  sell  the  votes, 
Hoarse  rumbling  from  their  perjured  throats, 
With  crammed  porte-monnaies  flout  your  school, 
To  echo  Thurman,  "  Wealth  must  rule!" 

When  Didius  in  the  forum  stands, 

And  with  Sulpician  contends, 

Purse  fights  with  purse,  and  auctioned  Rome 

Falls  prey  to  him  who  has,  at  home, 

The  chests,  his  clawing  hand  unlocks 

To  buy  the  tissued  Ballot-box  ; 

Nor  needs,  with  promise  of  the  sack 

Of  public  treasure,  bribe  the  pack 

Of  party  hounds,  who  howling  wait, 

Snapping  each  other  at  its  gate. 

No  dogs  so  fierce  as  they,  will  quarrel 

Around  the  fame-invested  "  barrel." 

So,  venal  from  his  rotten  youth, 

A  smirk  at  Faith,  and  sneer  at  Truth, 

Burrowing  all  his  knavish  prime 

For  legal  garbage  thro'  the  slime 

Of  gold-bought  statutes  he  calls  Law, 

In  which  the  wiggling  weak,  to  maw 

Of  floundering  strength,  in  shoals  are  sped, 

As  menhaden  for  sharks  are  bred. 

This  sapless,  loveless  Eunuch,  who 

Wedded  to  selfishness,  ne'er  knew 

Sensation  of  a  nerve  that  felt 

A  sympathy  beyond  his  pelt  — 

Who  thro'  a  prosperous  career 

Of  seven  decades  has  seen  each  year 


Ambition,  the  highest  bidder.  167 

Surpass  the  last,  as  knavish  skill 
Law-wed  to  profit-breeding  quill : 
Now  would  in  loveless  age,  aspire 
The  seat  of  Washington  to  hire. 
Hot  with  ambition  makes  his  claim, 
And  palled  with  money,  trades  for  fame. 

With  creaking  joints,  and  rheumy  eyes, 
See  Tilden,  blinking  at  the  prize, 
Then  at  his  "  barrel,"  to  estimate 
How  much  'twill  shrink,  to  make  him  great. 
While  to  his  ears,  in  harmony  floats 
The  smothered  moan  of  bulldozed  votes, 
(With  shot-gun  roars,  as  foul  Yazoo, 
Sick  of  free  thought  enjoys  a  spue.) 
All  cheaply  gained,  the  caucus  bought 
For  whose  control  his  purse  has  fought, 
As  States  wholesaled  for  cash  are  won, 
At  retail  by  the  lash  and  gun, 
Of  "glory"  sure,  if  filthy  Cork, 
With  tripled  vote,  can  drag  New  York 
Across  the  color-line,  where  stand 
In  solid  ranks,  Secession's  band. 

So  Murder,  Rant,  and  Bribery  strive 
To  give  you  an  infirm  Khedive, 
Who,  fastened  on  your  back,  will  guide 
Your  stumbling  steps,  with  roweled  hide ; 
While  you,  as  Sinbad  gather  nuts 
For  him  who  represents  the  guts 
Which  patient  labor  wastes  her  skill 
And  idiotic  sweat,  to  fill, 


168  The  "  Color  Line:' 

Because  the  food  that  they  digest, 

Only  increases  power  to  feast, 

As  principal  when  interest 

Upon  the  debt  new  strength  bestows, 

More  rav'nous,  as  it  larger  grows. 

All  cunning,  lies  and  treachery 

Are  proof  of  incapacity  ; 

He  who  was  cheated  thought  he  meant 

More  cunning  than  his  opponent. 

While  you,  O  !  Toil,  your  friends  behold, 
Priced  in  the  market-place  and  sold, 
For  State's  rights  bellowing,  the  Thug 
Thro'  all  the  South,  the  grave  has  dug, 
For  strangled  Freedom.     Will  you  lack 
All  sympathy,  because  she's  black  ? 
Her  cause  is  yours,  your  cause  is  Man's, 
Right  knows  nor  colors,  creeds,  nor  clans. 

Even  when  your  ardent  cohorts  throng 

The  crumbling  battlements  of  wrong, 

When  tear-drenched  eyes  with  gladness  shine, 

Arid  "  Victory  ! "  rings  along  the  line. 

Still  traitor  hands  your  standards  lower, 

As  fell  ambition  grasps  at  power. 

If  Toil  but  tramples  on  a  crown, 

To  shiver  at  a  Tribune's  frown, 

A  harsher  master  you  obey, 

Than  those  he  aided  you  to  slay. 

As  Progress  with  her  rattling  train 
Lays  her  own  track  o'er  hill  and  plain, 


The  "  Coup  d'etat:1  169 

Thro'  mire,  and  rock,  her  toilsome  course, 

Exacts  all  skill,  and  claims  all  force, 

As  the  dead  weight  behind  he  drags, 

Of  Dives'  purple,  Lazar's  rags  ; 

Then  if  you  trust  a  renegade 

To  hold  her  lever,  retrograde 

He'll  set  it,  and  the  crash  of  wheels, 

And  telescoping  vans,  reveals, 

The  wretch  who  forced  the  steam  you  heat, 

To  drive  destruction  on  retreat. 

For  him  no  quarter  ;  let  your  knife, 
Keen-whetted,  drink  his  forfeit  life. 
For  Justice,  Labor  ne'er  must  shrink 
To  see  his  traitors  swing,  and  stink. 

To  the  great  King,  an  embassage 
Th'  .Athenians  missioned,  to  engage 
His  influence  to  gain  them  peace, 
And  Thebes  prevent  from  ruling  Greece. 
All  means  are  fair  to  win  success, 
Thought  craven-souled  Therrnagoras, 
And  worshipped  the  great  monarch,  prone 
As  vassal,  crawling  to  the  Throne. 
How  Athens  raged,  as  Greeks  deride 
The  blow  his  baseness  gave  her  pride, 
"  Success,  so  won  !  what  gift  had  he 
To  buy  a  freeman's  bended  knee  ? 
Lest  the  proud  shades  our  altars  shun, 
Whose  bright  blood  crimsoned  Marathon, 
To  Pluto's  realm,  vile  Slave,  .depart  ! 
May  Furies  rend  your  milky  heart ; 

12 


170  Wisdom  of  Ostracism. 

Our  glad  air  's  poisoned  with  your  breath ; 
Death  !  to  the  Traitor  !     Sudden  death  !  " 

Just  Sentence  !     May  his  doom  be  told 

Of  every  cur  that  licks  for  gold 

The  hand  of  power, — the  man,  self-made, 

Whose  patriotism  is  his  trade. 

O  !  Toilers  dread,  O  !  Freemen  shun 

Laws  which  evolve  the  self-made  man, 

Justice  and  Mercy,  Love  and  Grace, 

Are  doomed  where  he  controls  his  race. 

When  Northern  hordes  assailed  her  wall, 
And  Rome  was  tottering  to  her  fall, 
When  Anarchy's  wild,  seething  waves, 
Broke  o'er  the  weak  defence  of  Slaves, 
A  huge,  unwieldy  Savage  tore 
His  bloody  path  to  seats  of  power. 
Selfish  and  pitiless,  his  might, 
'Mid  butchered  victims  mocked  at  Right ; 
The  shiv'ring  Senate,  dumb  with  awe, 
His  edicts  registered  as  law, 
And  his  nomadic,  purple  tent 
Was  source  and  seat  of  Government. 
Death  fawned  upon  him  as  he  strode 
The  trembling  Earth,  a  human  God, 
As  Rome  with  laurels  crowned  her  son 
Her  self-made  man,  dread  Maximin. 

O  Toilers  of  this  land,  be  warned ! 

Ten  years'  proud  Troy  Cassandra  scorned, 

Then  fell,  because  her  Prince  before 


Traitorous  Towers.  171 

Was  conquered  by  the  Grecian  whore. 

And  vanity  his  Right  denied, 

Who  claimed  from  lust  his  stolen  bride. 

In  Homer's  deathless  tale  is  writ 

The  world  truth  close  with  Nature  knit, 

"  No  walls  a  city  can  protect, 

Whose  towers  with  treason  are  infect;" 

So  Priam's  grey,  blood-dabbled  hair 

Calls  down  the  cent'ries  to  declare, 

Who  wrong  defends,  its  ills  must  share. 

O  !  Brothers,  every  tower  you  build 
Within  your  walls,  a  foe  will  shield. 
Who  herds  in  them,  remote  from  Man, 
Must  set  untiring  brains  to  plan 
For  greater  height,  and  wider  sweep, 
While  men  beneath,  foreshortened  creep, 
And  undistinguished  emmets  throng 
(Whose  nights  are  short  and  days  are  long) 
The  narrowed  streets,  chilled  in  their  shade, 
And  of  their  culverins  afraid  ; 
Peered  down  upon  by  jealous  eyes, 
Policed  by  guns  and  watched  by  spies, 
Forbid  to  think,  or  talk,  or  vote, 
Lest  they  attempt  to  fill  the  moat. 

All  towers  are  traitors  ;  even  the  wall 
Defensive,  must  defiance  bawl ; 
Must  bring  th'  invader  to  inspect 
What  'tis  their  battlements  protect. 
Suspicion,  always  wrong  will  meet, 
Distrust  still  justifies  deceit. 


172  Liberty  needs  no  walls. 

Man  never  built  a  wall  too  stout 

To  quiver  at  its  victor's  shout. 

Walls  prove  their  denizens  are  base  ; 

That  power  bestrides  a  coward  race  ; 

Nature  decrees  their  fall;  their  seed 

Grows  dwarfish,  and  she  spurns  the  breed. 

But  Sparta,  for  six  hundred  years, 

Walled  by  Equality,  avers 

She  never  in  her  homely  street 

Heard  the  dread  tramp  of  hostile  feet ; 

Aye  !  more  !  She  never  stranger  saw 

But  ate  black  broth  and  lived  her  law. 

Man  has  one  ark,  around  it  crowd 

The  rich,  the  arrogant,  the  proud, 

Eager  to  clutch,  with  hands  profane, 

God's  covenant,  and  Mammon's  bane, 

And  each  would  rule,  when  all  are  free, 

But  in  and  thro'  Equality. 

Who  flout  Equality,  betray 

Republics,  and  but  wait  the  day, 

When  they  can  Freedom  over-ride, 

Tho'  splashed  with  blood  at  every  stride. 

Unconscious  of  the  greatness  born 

Of  abnegation,  they  fear  scorn 

For  blustering  fame,,  and  Man  must  fall 

From  Nature's  plantigrades,  and  crawl, 

Dog-headed,  humbled,  pitiful, 

In  adulation  worshipful, 

Before  the  jealous  eyes  that  know 

In  every  man,  erect,  a  foe. 

Else  Haman  for  a  gallows  schemes, 

When  Mordecai  infests  his  dreams. 


Th<?  Mob's  great  men — the  Philosophers'  fools.    173 


Imagination  farness  grants 

Where  vision  palters  with  the  sense. 

The  angle  that  subtends  the  eye 

Declares  a  giant,  wide  and  high, 

Till  Reason,  measuring  distance,  aids, 

When  to  a  dwarf  the  monster  fades. 

By  distant  looking  Man  's  undone, 

Victim  to  what  he  'd,  nearer,  shun. 

'Tis  their  pedestals  make  men  great 

To  those  beneath,  who  congregate, 

But  from  his  tub,  Diogenes, 

The  monarch,  as  a  maggot  sees. 

Gas  is  the  force  that  climbs  the  skies, 

Men,  like  balloons,  must  swell  to  rise, 

To  explode  when  greatest  height  they  win, 

And  grandeur's  air  for  Man  's  too  thin. 

None  ever  rise  so  high  as  he 

Who  floats  to  power,  on  anarchy, 

Who  knows  not  whither  he  is  bent, 

Nor  why,  nor  how  he  made  the  ascent. 

Was  Arnold  traitor,  when  he  sold 
West-Point  for  British  rank  and  gold  ? 
Whose  Patriotism  chilled  and  died, 
Frozen  by  greed,  and  choked  by  pride, 
Because  Self-love  must  vindicate 
Its  appetite  insatiate, 
For  higher  rank,  claimed  by  the  sword, 
Which  as  a  mercenary  warred. 

What  then  Fremont  ?  who  could  not  serve 
His  country,  when  thro'  every  nerve 


174  Ambitious  Patriots. 

His  supersession  poured  a  smart. 
Thro'  self-love,  on  his  jealous  heart. 
Whose  petty  spleen  betrayed  to  shame 
The  countless  votes  that  cheered  his  name, 
He  "  Aut  Caesar,  aut  iiullus"  whined, 
And  seeing  Pope  bestarred,  resigned. 

Resigned!  Deserted  !  had  he  worn 
Instead  of  shoulder-strap,  chevron. 
Resigned  !  Aye  !  So  Jeff  Davis  fell. 
Resigned  !  'twas  heard  in  every  yell 
That  cheered  a  West-point  graduate 
Who  swelled  the  hosts  confederate, 
To  rear  on  human  property 
A  charnel  house  for  Liberty  ; 
And,  mad  for  bitter  praise,  aspired 
His  fame,  who  Dian's  temple  fired. 
They,  more  than  country,  loved  a  slave, 
He,  more  than  country,  loved  a  Knave, 
And  Paris'  jail  stands  open  yet 
For  still-born  Patriot !  convict  cheat ! 
Arnold  resigned  !  But  Arnold  sold  ? 
Yes  ! — The  Confederates  had  no  gold ! 

When  Rome,  by  desp'rate  factions  torn — 

As  Caesar's  rage  met  Pompey's  scorn, 

Implored  her  greatest  citizen 

To  sacrifice  at  Concord's  Fane, 

The  paltry  glory  of  a  day, 

And  blend  in  peace  their  jarring  sway. 


Cicero.  '  175 


See,  careless  of  the  impending  war, 

Self-love  deny  the  piteous  prayer, 

As  Cicero,  without  her  gates, 

Impassive,  for  his  triumph,  waits. 

Tho'  well  he  knows  her  fate  is  sealed  ; 

That  Rome  will  be  a  battle-field  ; 

That  once  the  Rubicon  is  crossed, 

Freedom  and  Peace  alike  are  lost. 

And  yet  this  Patriot  had  enjoyed, 

Until  e'en  self-love  should  have  cloyed, 

All  honors  due  from  gratitude 

To  him,  who  Cataline  subdued. 

The  greasy  mob's  applause  had  sped 

The  Senate's  laurels  to  his  head. 

With  "  I  saved  Rome  !  "  his  calm  disdain 

Answered  and  crushed  who  dared  complain 

That  his  administration  warred 

With  justice,  and  Rome's  statutes  marred. 

First  of  her  banded  Kings  he  rode 

On  topmost  wave  of  Fortune's  flood. 

And  "  pater  patrice  !"  could  not  climb 

To  higher  power,  but  by  a  crime. 

This  man,  to  enjoy  a  few  hours  march 
Thro'  gaping  streets  'neath  dizened  arch, 
Looked  idly  on,  nor  intervened, 
Tho'  war  and  peace  were  in  his  hand. 
So  Vanity  has  clothed  with  shame 
The  Triumph  that  adorns  his  name. 

Be  warned,  O  Toilers. — Who  is  this? 
To  whom,  like  Cadi,  in  Tunis, 


176  The  "Hero"  Politician. 

No  present  ever  came  amiss. 

Who  made  the  White-House,  rendezvous, 

Where  met  detective,  thief,  and  Jew ; 

Perhaps  a  jack-daw,  but,  God  knows, 

Long  years  th'  associate  of  crows, 

With  corn-soaked  whisky  drunk,  where  caws 

Mocked  justice  and  defied  your  laws. 

Grant,  for  a  subject,  seems  too  great. 
Ah  !  how  he  shrinks,  chief-magistrate. 
Fit  but  for  camps,  he  adds  disgrace 
To  glory,  in  the  statesman's  place. 
What  gentleman  is  not  ashamed, 
When  his  administration  's  named  ? 
Who  held  the  highest  place  on  earth 
At  what  its  patronage  was  worth. 
Who  weighed  his  honors  by  th'  amount 
They  added  to  his  Bank  account. 
Who  signed  the  "back-grab"  bill,  and  saw 
No  shame  in  robbery  by  law. 
Who  used  his  office  as  an  heir 
Inheritance  with  friends  might  share, 
Their  wasted  fortunes  to  repair  ; 
Or  as  a  lease  at  rack-rent  held 
Continuous  crops  th'  exhausted  field; 
Until  his  office-trading  crew, 
Corrupting  and  corrupted,  grew 
So  stenchful  that  the  Nation  lost 
Faith  in  the  party  that  he  curst. 
And  raging,  passed  her  helm  to  those, 
She  knew  her  natural,  deadly  foes, 
Whose  lives  were  spent  to  work  her  woes. 


Grant,  G-eneral,  President,  third  term  Candidate.    177 

Who's  this,  who  travels  foreign  lands, 

Hob-nobs  with  princes,  and  demands 

Of  dukes  and  marshals,  precedence 

Awarded  ex-King's  impotence  ? 

Who,  grown  too  great  to  dwell  at  ease, 

Save  where  men,  fawning,  cringe  their  knees 

Before  Power's  image,  roves  and  waits, 

Till  faction-torn  and  purse-ruled  States, 

Beg  Bismarck's  pupil  centralize 

Two  putrified  confed'racies. 

Who  can  not  breathe  your  common  air, 

But  must  to  palaces  repair, 

Their  adulation  to  inhale, 

Who  judge  of  greatness  by  its  tail, 

As  Scotchmen  knew  a  chieftain's  State 

By  red-legged  gillies  at  his  gate. 

Be  warned,  O,  Brothers !  when  you  hear 
The  brawling  mob  join  Mammon's  cheer, 
As  he  across  your  land  is  rolled 
In  palace  car,  bedecked  with  gold  ; 
And  faction-nursing  statesmen  prate, 
How  he  alone  can  save  the  State. 
While  every  hungry  sycophant 
That  shamed  his  office  bawls  for  Grant ; 
Lest  in  the  third-term  candidate, 
An  Emperor  you  educate. 

Where  Mobs,  unreasoning,  rule,  still  Saul 
Will  vault  to  power,  because  he  's  tall. 
The  throne  is  always  ready  made 
Wherever  its  foundation  's  laid. 


178        Why  King  Saul  superseded  the  Judge. 

He  who  his  chamber  swept  and  cleaned, 
Expelled,  but  did  not  slay  the  fiend, 
Yet  left  it  without  watch  or  ward, 
Returned  to  find  his  labors  marred  ; 
No  tears  avail,  his  last  hope's  o'er 
As  Hell  throngs  thro'  his  open  door. 


When  Freedom's  light  chased  Feudal  gloom, 

And  France,  awakening,  burst  her  tomb, 

Man's  masters  saw  her  axe's  sheen 

Grow  ruddy  in  the  Guillotine. 

How  raged  the  tyrants,  cowed,  dismayed, 

As  in  its  grooves  the  avenger  played, 

And  in  their  livid  faces  sped 

Her  battle  gage,  a  Bourbon  head, 

As  Justice  struggled  to  repay 

An  Age's  tortures  in  a  day. 

The  Flag  that  flamed  for  Human  Right, 

Fierce  from  their  dens,  the  hordes  of  night, 

In  countless  myriads  swarmed  to  rend, 

Lest  Liberty  and  Love  should  blend 

The  jarring  nations,  and  their  rush 

O'er  toppling  thrones,  Earth's  purpled  crush. 

France  called,  "To  arms  !"  Oppression's  hounds 

Soon  sought  their  lairs  to  lick  their  wounds. 

O'er  Kingdoms  shattered,  franchised  slaves, 

The  bright  Tricolor  proudly  waves ; 

And  from  its  blended  rays  spreads  wide 

The  light  that  shrivels  greed  and  pride. 

France  stood  among  her  debris,  where 
The  Bastile  and  the  House  of  prayer, 


Napoleon,  General,  Consul,  JSmperor.         179 

The  aborting  Nunnery  ;  the  cells 

Where  pious  Onanism  dwells  ; 

The  lordling's  castle,  whose  grim  frown 

For  generations  scared  the  town ; 

The  palace,  whose  each  sculptured  stone 

Was  bedded  in  .a  dying  groan 

Of  the  gaunt  serfs  who  built  the  stacks 

Of  proud  Versailles,  and  died  of  tax  ; 

All  lay,  materiel  to  her  hand, 

Ready  for  building.     Had  she  planned 

Her  Freedom's  Temple  on  the  rock 

Of  stern  Equalit}r,  no  shock 

Could  have  disturbed  its  solid  base ; 

No  tempest  could  have  torn  her  race 

From  its  strong,  grouted  battlement, 

Each  course  in  Human  Love  cement. 

But  France  a  man  had  deified, 
And  low  Ambition,  gew-gawed  pride, 
Floating  to  power  on  Freedom's  flood, 
Reaped  the  rich  harvests  of  her  blood. 
Spawn  of  Vendettas,  Corsic'  bred, 
Of  pity  void,  in  conscience  dead, 
Man's  direst  curse,  the  self-made  man, 
Bechrismed  by  the  Vatican  ; 
Flaunting  the  bees  of  Charlemagne, 
Over  her  destinies  held  rein. 

The  egotist  of  all  his  race, 
A  daemon,  masked  by  human  face, 
Who  reckoned  every  year's  increase 
Of  forty  millions  as  a  lease, 


180  The  Empire. 


And  conscripts  annually  spent, 

As  farthings  of  a  profit  rent, 

Was  Daiiton's  heir,  whose  dying  cry, 

"Let  my  name  in  oblivion  lie 

If  France,  dear  France,  may  but  be  free," 

Thrills  human  hearts  with  harmony 

To  music  of  the  spheres  attuned, 

Where  Loving  Reason  sits  enthroned. 

A  generation  was  his  purse, 
Who,  foreign  to  the  Universe, 
With  no  desire  but  that  his  name 
Should  swell  the  puffing  cheeks  of  Fame, 
Scattered  its  lives,  as  nominees, 
Their  coppers  fling,  a  Mob  to  please, 
Whose  raucous  throats  the  expense  repays 
With  hoarser  shouts  of  brutal  praise. 
Insane  with  adulation's  breath, 
His  glory  stuffed  the  maw  of  Death  ; 
And  millions  sacrificed  to  fate, 
To  make  one  little  mortal,  great. 

On  every  threshold,  Mourning  stood, 
Gazing  upon  the  fiery  flood, 
'Whelming  beneath  its  lurid  waves 
By  myriads,  Glory's  shrieking  slaves : 
And,  moaning,  saw  with  dripping  eyes 
War's  dreadful  balance  hang  in  skies, 
By  battle  smoke  appalled,  to  weigh 
The  claims  of  nations  joined  in  fray. 
The  world,  distracted,  drowned  in  gore, 
Drifted  on  seas  without  a  shore  ; 


"  Glory"  quantum  sufficit.  181 

While  his  insatiate  lust  of  power, 

Poured  o'er  its  tides  Gomorrah's  shower, 

And  Earth  was  sulphurous  as  Hell, 

While  tonsured  knaves  tolled  Freedom's  knell. 

Glory  !     O,  Grant !  we've  had  enough  ! 
For  it  snakes  annually  slough 
Their  out-grown  uniforms,  to  fright 
The  pastures  with  their  appetite  ; 
To  scare  with  venom-spotted  coat, 
Music  from  Nature's  lilting  throat. 
Let  it  suffice  that  History's  style 
Declares  you  had  the  "  longest  tail," 
Nor  asks  "  Where  is  it  ?"  as  she  writes 
Praise  of  your  suicidal  fights. 

The  cannon  is  the  hero's  plow, 
And  in  its  furrows  laurels  glow, 
Which  flourish,  with  a  lustrous  green . 
More  vivid  than  in  Nature  's  seen, 
With  eyes,  spent  by  the  crimson  spread 
On  Glory's  murder-sheeted  bed ; 
But  stronger  sight  beholds  the  wreath 
Unglamoured,  with  the  hues  of  death. 

When  serfs,  with  rustling  laurels  bind, 
His  brows,  who  dominates  his  kind, 
Honors  upon  a  butcher  heap, 
And  at  his  feet  submissive  creep, 
His  emulation  grown  insane, 
Possesses  all  his  frenzied  brain. 
Of  all  Man's  heroes,  one  alone, 


182  "Sic  itur  ad  astral 

Who  had  no  children,  schemed  no  throne. 

Who  hopes  a  second  Washington  ? 

For,  as  a  drunkard,  loathing  wine, 

Must  dash  his  brandy  with  cayenne, 

Whose  liquid  fire  alone  contents 

His  jaded,  palled,  and  craving  sense  ; 

So  dread  Ambition,  void  of  shame, 

Ambition  that  no  force  can  tame — 

Whose  palate,  blood  alone  can  move, 

Deadened  to  taste  of  natural  love, 

With  fever  baked,  and  drouth-cracked  lips, 

The  nectar  of  destruction  sips. 

His  narrow  grooved,  straight-driving  mind, 

Plunges  thro'  cowering  mankind, 

And  throws  their  corses  from  his  track, 

As  tho'  engine  demoniac, 

And,  driven  by  steams  of  Hate,  were  hurled 

Across  a  scared  and  shudd'ring  world. 

His  life  is  but  contested  game, 

To  win  a  halo  for  his  name  ; 

He  holds  his  fellow  as  a  pawn, 

From  chess-board,  by  his  death,  withdrawn ; 

His  loss  regretted,  if  his  aid 

is  needed,  as  the  moves  are  played, 

Which,  winning,  Victor  seats  on  high 

To  rule,  as  God,  Man's  destiny. 

By  demi-Gods,  dehumanized, 

Unstinted  power  alone  is  prized. 

For  wider  sway  Ambition  raves, 

And  rears  his  throne  on  countless  graves ; 


Foot-prints  of  the  Demigods.  183 

Yet  Alexanders  die  and  leave 

No  heirs,  so  granting  Man  reprieve ; 

But  Creed  grants  immortality 

To  tyrants,  whose  malignity, 

In  God's  name,  wars  with  every  trace 

Of  Manhood  in  earth's  timid  race. 

So»Ghengis  Khan  and  Tamerlene 
Are  dwarfed  by  gentle  Nazarene, 
Tho'  each  his  age,  all  rabid,  tore, 
And  flooded  Asia's  plains  with  gore ; 
Tho'  pyramids  of  skulls  might  claim 
Each  was  a  deity,  lacking  name. 

For  his  apotheosis  still 

Works  on  his  race  enduring  ill, 

As  each  dull  generation  sprawls 

In  reverence  before  the  scrawls 

Of  lousy  monks,  whose  pot-hook  lies, 

Graven  in  Mind's  mud,  Time  petrifies ; 

As  fossil  prints  of  Dinornis, 

Left  in  the  Permian  age,  on  dust 

Of  Earth's  unstable,  shifting  crust, 

Now  carved  in  old  red  sandstone,  fright 

Surviving  Mesozoic  wight, 

Who  cries  in  reverential  fear : 

"  Behold  his  tracks  !     Lo !  God  was  here  !  " 

While  Pickwick  commentators  read 

Each,  his  own  version  of  a  creed, 

Found  in  the  meaning,  mystic,  dark, 


184  Vox,  et  prceterea  nihil. 

And  as  the  Argyraspides 
Met  vision-seeing  Eumenes, 
In  the  pavilion  whence  the  ghost 
Of  Alexander  ruled  the  host, 
And  heard  his  vacant  throne  declare 
The  cunning  Cardian  his  heir  ; 
So  priests  in  solemn  council  meet 
Around  their  Lama's  empty  seat, 
And  congregations  dwarfed  and  dull, 
Of  reason  void,  of  reverence  full, 
Persuade  the  palates  own  the  taste 
Of  steak,  tho'  biscuit 's  their  repast, 
And  snicker  in  their  sleeves,  as  Fraud 
Incarnates  the  Almighty  God. 

Thus  eighteen  centuries  have  felt 
The  curses  of  their  boundless  guilt, 
Who  strive  to  flex  the  human  knee 
Before  a  human  deity, 
And  scatter  from  a  victim's  cross 
Rays  blinding  man  to  Nature's  laws. 
The  tyrant-trampled  womb  of  Time, 
By  terror  shocked,  affright  with  crime, 
Breeds  vile  abortions  in  a  race 
Perpetuating  Earth's  disgrace ; 
Who  feels  and  answers  to  his  force 
As  Progress  drives  her  on  her  course, 
And  sees,  disgusted,  brute  Yahoos 
Feed  torpid  mind  on  thought's  refuse. 

Aye  !  scarce  a  man  a  century  boasts, 
Dreads  not  their  God,  nor  fears  their  ghosts, 


In  medio  tutissimus  ibis.  185 

Whose  Reason,  uncontaminate 

By  lust,  ambition,  creed,  or  hate, 

And  undistorted  by  a  youth 

Of  melancholy,  cellar-growth, 

Can  know  and  grasp  the  golden  mean 

'Twixt  bigot's  snarl  and  atheist's  spleen, 

But  finds  in  universal  Love 

The  lever  which  the  world  can  move, 

Its  fulcrum  in  the  heart  of  Man, 

Brain-fed,  with  muscles  artizan; 

While  over  earth  the  abortions  swarm, 

Whom  lust,  or  greed  or  creed  deform, 

And  for  Barabbas  rend  the  skies, 

As  'neath  his  cross  scourged  Jesus  lies, 

Who  with  Sanhedrim  dared  debate, 

And  fought,  lone-handed,  world  of  hate. 

Still  Pilate  's  in  the  judgment  seat, 
Still  the  hoarse  mob's  crude  curses  greet 
Your  monarch-victim  ;  Death  alone 
Can  crime  of  Love  for  Man  atone. 
As  Law,  relentless  plies  his  knout, 
Each  moan  's  applauded  by  a  shout 
Insensate.    Priests  with  praise  devout, 
Thank  Ahriman  that  Toil 's  chastised 
Where  Mammon,  Man  has  civilized. 
Still  dances  happy  Barabbas, 
Still  Jesus  staggers  neath  his  cross ; 
Still  all  the  tribes  of  Jewry  toss 
Their  boomerang  curses  at  his  head, 
Swift  whirring  to  their  hearts  who  speed 
The  weapons  Hate  makes  use,  to  goad 
13 


186  Progress  fettered  by  Faith. 

Faint  Labor  up  the  rocky  road 
To  grim  Golgotha, — there  to  swing 
On  Treason's  gibbet,  Nature's  King. 

O  !    Toilers,  whose  stained  garments  strewed 
The  King  of  Toil's  triumphal  road. 
Ye  saw  him  hang,  all  stark  and  cold, 
Who  dared  withstand  the  strength  of  Gold. 
Hope  yet  no  triumph — Power  will  rob, 
While  Priest  is  echoed  by  the  Mob. 


When  the  mild  Caesar  saw,  elate, 

On  earth,  no  rival  to  his  state, 

And  Rome's  last  foe  submissive  cower 

Before  her  fierce,  remorseless  power  : 

In  love  with  peace,  he  prophecied, 

"  No  more  by  wars  shall  nations  bleed. 

The  wasting  fires  that  camps  illume 

No  more  shall  light  the  Roman's  home  ; 

Controlling  all  things,  and  secure, 

Long  shall  in  peace  our  sway  endure, 

Till,  even  the  sight  of  arms  abhorred, 

Men  shall  lose  skill  to  forge  the  sword. 

The  ox  shall  speed  the  shining  share ; 

The  horse  forget  the  trumpet's  blare ; 

The  captives  huddled  in  our  marts, 

In  freedom,  ply  industrial  arts  ; 

O'er  every  land  Rome's  judge  shall  wield 

Rome's  law,  all  men  from  wrong  to  shield." 

Even  while  the  stern-browed  soldier  dreamed, 

Behold  !    the  avenging  daggers,  dimmed 

With  his  life-drops,  who  dared  to  close 


Reaction,  the  result  when  power  aids  Progress.    187 

The  gates  which  Mars  wide  open  throws: 
Who  dared  to  set  men,  trained  by  hate, 
To  dig  canals  and  irrigate  ; 
That  Ceres  harvest-thirst  might  slake 
When  hot  with  dragging  sheaf-full  rake ; 
As  the  fierce  legions,  fed  by  strife, 
Swept  from  their  path  a  Caesar's  life, 
Whose  eye  thro'  the  dim  future  saw 
A  world  of  lovers,  ruled  by  Law. 
Imperial  Rome,  her  mouth  in  dust, 
Her  virgins  yields  Carinus' lust; 
For  Consul  sees,  in  Cato's  seat, 
His  beardless,  painted  catamite. 
As  wolves,  in  undefended  walk, 
Ravage  the  timid,  trembling  flock, 
And  mad  with  blood,  insanely  slay, 
When  hunger  glutted  with  their  prey, 
So  her  fierce  mercenaries  spoiled 
The  gathered  treasures  of  the  world  ; 
Her  citizens,  with  flying  feet, 
Met  death  in  every  purpled  street ; 
Their  power  unchecked,  her  direst  ban, 
Her  legions,  were  the  foes  of  Man. 

A  Mob  is  crazed  material  force, 
By  ganglions  nerved,  acephalous  : 
A  hurricane,  devoid  of  aim ; 
A  chaos  torn  with  driving  flame. 
Embodied  wrath,  with  foam-flecked  jaws, 
Disdaining  e'en  a  whirlwind's  laws; 
A  maelstrom,  whose  ingulphing  swirl 
To  ruin  drags  the  cause  of  quarrel, 


188  Briar eus,  naked  and  uniformed. 

Blent  with  its  own  wrath-boiling  foam, 

Hating,  and  hated,  to  one  doom. 

A  Horror,  which  the  depths  reveal 

Of  the  wide  gulf  where  God  is  still ; 

A  body,  sinewed,  nerved  by  Hate, 

It  must  destroy  and  can't  create. 

An  Army  is  a  Mob,  whose  drill 

Its  forces  bind  in  unit  will ; 

Combined  and  serried  impotence, 

To  lock-step  trained  for  violence. 

A  Typhoon  which  a  daemon  rides, 

And  to  his  aim  its  fury  guides. 

In  it  Power  gathers,  bands,  and  forms 

The  Mob's  Briarean,  tossing  arms, 

In  one  huge  muscle,  with  one  nerve, 

With  must  its  one  fell  impulse  serve. 

A  Chaos  organized,  whose  void 

Lies  cold  below  a  brooding  God. 

Where  Hate  is  normal,  arid  decay 

Evolves  from  death  the  phosphor  "ray, 

Which  seen  thro1  "  Glory's"  prism  pours 

Hell's  lustre  on  the  crimes  of  wars. 

A  School  for  Murder,  whence  struts  Pride, 

Booted  and  spurred,  on  Man  to  ride, 

Where  vulture  hearts  are  graduate; 

It  but  destroys,  and  can't  create. 

Such  are  the  foes  that  Man  should  dread, 

Begot  by  power,  and  bred  by  creed, 

Vampires  or  gnats  on  Toil  they  swarm, 

And  sorn  on  Labor  to  deform 

A  world  whose  nobler  instincts  tend 

A  perfect  Earth,  with  Heaven  to  blend. 


The  "Social  System:'  189 

Society  's  a  crude  machine, 

Whose  every  creaking  cog  is  seen 

Eaten  with  rust,  by  friction  worn, 

And  planned  throughout  in  Reason's  scorn. 

Of  all  the  fuel  it  requires 

To  feed  its  smoking,  smouldering  fires, 

It  can't  the  thousandth  part  compute, 

As  into  natural  force  transmute. 

Its  draughtless  chimneys,  filled  with  soot, 

With  reeking,  vaporous  smut  pollute 

Its  crazy  and  uncentred  wheels, 

Whose  jarring  din  lost  power  reveals  ; 

Its  boilers,  caked,  their  every  seam 

Is  open,  and  the  hissing  steam 

Scalds  the  grimed  workmen  from  each  vent, 

Thro'  which  its  wasted  might  is  spent. 

Earth  shaken  by  the  ceaseless  jar 

Of  rattling  engines,  thinks  that  War 

Is  normal  state  of  Man,  because 

He  suffers  Greed  to  frame  his  laws. 

Cowed  Labor  sees  the  tiger  heart, 

From  Toil  clutch  gold,  and  fame  from  Art ; 

Tho'  outraged  Nature,  thro'  her  tears, 

Declares  that  for  ten  thousand  years, 

She's  tireless  worked  with  cunning  skill, 

To  breed  from  claws  the  artist  nail. 

Hell  by  the  jangle  's  entertained, 
Creed  swears  the  friction,  God-ordained, 
That  he  who  dares  to  lubricate, 
Order  attacks,  and  wounds  the  State. 


190  Predominance  of  the  brute  in  Man. 

'Tis  garden  zoological, 
Where  monkeys  climb,  and  boas  crawl, 
Where  tigers  and  hyenas  prowl, 
Baboons  and  orang-outangs  scowl, 
Where  every  base,  carniverous  brute 
Grows  fat  by  Law  in  Toil's  pursuit, 
And  sheltered  in  their  tax-built  den, 
Keep  all  the  race  of  working  men 
So  busy  bringing  swine  and  sheep, 
Pigeons  and  bullocks  to  their  keep, 
They  never  think  the  growling  beasts, 
Are  not  entitled  to  their  feasts. 

'Tis  Anarchy,  where  Power  takes  trust 
Of  Labor's  right,  and  holds  it  just, 
From  age  to  age  he  should  receive 
Such  wage  as  but  permits  him  live 
Scarce  half  of  Nature's  days,  to  crawl, 
Law-weighted,  to  his  half-paid  toil, 
Feeding5  on  rinds  and  husks,  and  clothed 
In  his  cast  garments,  patched  and  mothed. 

Power  gathers  every  drop  of  sweat, 
And  blends  them  in  the  coronet 
Of  Railway  King,  and  Millionaire, 
Of  Bishop,  Usurer,  and  Peer. 
Who  with  a  mumbled  Gospel  scare 
The  sorry  wight  back  to  despair, 
If  their  attentive  ears  hear,  Why  ? 
Half  whispered  in  his  voiceless  sigh, 
And  hire  his  hungry  pipe-clayed  child, 
To  herd,  and  shoot  if  he  grow  wild. 


The  burden  of  Love.  191 

Their  systems,  gendering  hate,  enforce 

Its  laws  on  human  intercourse. 

And  as  faint  Christian  could  not  win 

His  heaven  when  burdened  by  his  sin, 

So  man  can  not  attain  success 

In  life,  while  on  his  shoulders  press 

The  weight  of  human  love ;  he  trips 

In  Greed's  path,  when  he  fellowships. 

Each  in  his  brother  seeks  a  tool 

To  work  his  ends,  and  knows  him  fool 

But  fit  for  Mammon's  sneer,  who'll  prate 

How  selfishness  must  generate 

Perpetual  and  cruel  wrong, 

The  weak  still  herded  by  the  strong. 

All  individuality 

Is  eaten  by  gnawing  penury ; 

The  swarming  toilers  grow  alike, 

As  minnows,  while  each  lonely  pike 

Drives  thro'  their  garbage-tainted  pool 

The  orie-idea'cl,  helpless  school ; 

Each  semi-conscious  of  his  doom, 

And  yet  each  glad,  to  find  more  room  • 

For  his  fins,  as  his  fellows  float 

Weak-wiggling  down  th'  expectant  throat, 

Still  growing  wider,  as  each  bite 

Blends  in  the  wide-jawed  appetite. 

Behold  !  O,  Brothers  !  here  revealed 
The  Pike,  in  every  cowl  concealed, 
A  chapel-dedicating  priest, 
Clamoring  to  be  monopolist 


192  A  dead  tongue  for  a  dead  Grod. 

Of  the  "  Glad  Tidings,"  that  his  chant 

Drones  thro'  the  drumless  ears  of  Want 

In  a  dead  tongue,  lest  Thought  may  wake, 

And  his  Salvation-shop  forsake. 

Bracing  the  state  he  arrogates, 

With  emblematic  petticoats ; 

That  as  a  chasuble,  his  frock 

May  awe  his  kneeling,  shivering  flock, 

Close  shorn,  as  from  the  wind-swept  fold, 

The  cross  must  shine  in  burnished  gold, 

Tho'  every  temple  God  has  built 

Is  roofed  with  shame,  is  black  with  guilt. 

The  Bishop  solitary  lives. 

What  human  sympathy  survives 

In  him,  who  's  sworn  to  never  share 

With  mother's  love,  a  father's  care. 

Thro'  whose  heart  raptures  dare  not  sing, 

As  loving  arms  around  him  cling ; 

The  "  Father"  of  a  diocese, 

Where  schools  are  scarce,  and  throng,  police, 

He  rears  his  flat-browed  brood  as  though 

'Twere  sin  to  learn  and  crime  to  know  ; 

Till  they,  in  his  wine-oozing  face, 

Who  's  great,  because  all  else  are  base, 

See  something  more  than  clay,  and  kneel 

In  meek  humility,  to  feel 

Upon  their  thirsty  souls,  the  drip 

Of  unction  from  his  greasy  lip. 

As  Reynard,  trap-despoiled  of  brush, 
Th'  advantage  boasts,  without  a  blush, 


The  crime  of  Continence.  193 

Of  naked  hurdles,  to  induce 

His  fellows  their  tails  to  misuse ; 

So  he,  on  Nature  would  improve 

But  shames  her  by  excising  love. 

His  flabby  palms  with  blessings  curse, 

The  maid  Creed-driven  to  her  hearse, 

Who,  buried  in  the   convent's  gloom, 

Mocks  Nature  with  an  idle  womb. 

Happier  if  skinny  babe  she  pressed, 

In  famine  to  her  milkless  breast, 

Though  shapen  in  iniquity 

Its  birth  assured  her  infamy. 

Aye,  happier  thus,  than  as.  a  Nun 

To  win  Faith's  Heaven,  by  life  undone  ; 

Happier  by  couple-beggar  spliced, 

Than  loveless,  childless,  "  Spouse  of  Christ." 

The  Virtue  's  Death,  that  dares  deny 

God's  law  "  Increase  and  multiply  !  " 

It  dries  affection  at  its  source, 

And  in  dazed  brains  excites  remorse, 

To  gnaw  the  heart,  that  never  errs 

When  Love  his  throbs  to  Life  transfers. 

The  Bishop's  solitary  life 

Is  spent  in  an  unnatural  strife 

With  lust,  as  he's  forbid  the  joy 

Of  Love,  and  Manhood  must  destroy, 

As  Origen,  to  know  subdued 

The  phantoms,  which,  in  solitude, 

Throng  thro'  his  fevered,  poisoned  brain, 

In  blood  refused  its  natural  drain. 

A  moral  eunuch,  if  a  saint ; 

If  not,  a  beast  that  knows  restraint, 


194  Reasoners  against  Reason. 

But  as  an  amorous  stallion  fears 
The  whiplash  whizzing  'round  his  ears, 
Who,  wide  as  Deity's  command, 
Scatters  his  image  thro'  the  land ; 
And  each,  or  saint,  or  hypocrite, 
For  Man's  example,  all  unfit. 

But  better,  either,  than  the  horde 

Of  pew-fed  paupers  who  have  bored 

His  patient  ear  with  maudlin  song 

Of  Book  Inspired,  that  bolsters  wrong ; 

False  as  Munchausen's  diary, 

Its  title  page  a  triple  lie. 

Full  of  absurdities  its  Text, 

Squat  on  the  throne  of  God,  has  vext 

The  dismal  world,  since  Sinai  saw 

God's  mall  and  chisel  graving  Law. 

"  Index  Expurgatorius," 

Creed,  cunning  as  idolatrous, 

Have  sealed  so  close  the  Catholic's  eyes 

He  can't  detect  its  swarming  lies. 

But,  papal  God  not  yet  has  crossed 

The  rough  Atlantic,  tho'  his  host 

Answer  his  snarls  o'er  Europe's  bones 

And  gladly  see  he  but  postpones 

His  voyage  here,  till  there  he  gnaws 

The  last  worn  shred  of  Freedom's  cause. 

Till  Asia,  fed  by  th'  excrement 

Of  Lama,  incarnate,  content 

Beholds  her  sister  continent 

In  brainless  adoration  fall 

Like  her,  the  Man-God's  hopeless  thrall. 


God,  in  the  Constitution.  195 

For  these  pervert  a  wider  brain, 

A  more  enlightened  thought,  profane, 

And  Progress  kill,  a  prattling  boy ; 

While  those  his  foetal  life  destroy. 

For  these  have  breathed  a  purer  air — 

For  these  have  lived  with  Man,  and  share 

His  instincts,  hopes,  fears,  appetites— 

His  toils  and  pleasures,  pains,  delights, 

Yet  tireless,  and  incessant  plead 

For  domination  of  the  Creed, 

Which,  where  it  reigns,  can  but  debase 

And  idiotize  a  Faith-dwarfed  race. 


Pike  !  said  I;  Brethren,  'tis  a  Shark 

Hovers  round  your  storm-driven  Ark, 

Nosing  its  hull,  in  Time's  wide  flood, 

Whose  equal  Law  is  equal  Good  ; 

Waiting  and  hoping  till  the  State, 

Church  governed,  throws  him  human  bait ; 

As  slavers  when  their  cargoes  pine, 

Toss  victims  in  the  yeasty  brine, 

And  see,  from  smeared  and  blood-stained  deck, 

The  swift  fins  following  in  their  wake, 

To  glean  the  debit  which  the  hold 

Has  lost  when  Man  's  the  prey  of  Gold. 


Another  pike  is  here,  whose  jaw 
Can  never  satiate  his  maw. 
The  manufacturer,  who  sees 
Each  profit  year  his  wealth  increase, 


196  The  successful  business  man. 


Compounded  monthly,  by  his  sales  ; 

Compounded  daily,  as  he  scales 

His  workmen's  wage,  who  plundered,  cope 

With  orders,  fines,  and  "  Toffy  shop." 

Till  the  successful  business  man, 

Who  as  a  huxter,  trade  began, 

Can  point,  self-made,  with  honest  pride, 

His  smoking  stacks,  as  forests  hide 

The  cindered,  barren  country  side  ; 

Where  not  a  bud  dares  promise  show ; 

Where  not  a  blade  of  grass  dares  grow ; 

Where,  save  the  stagnant  pool,  no  green 

In  all  the  dull  expanse  is  seen. 

Where  the  chill,  melancholy  air 

Clings  to  the  desert,  bleak,  and  bare, 

As  tho'  its  sooty,  blasting  cloud 

Enwrapped  dead  Nature  as  a  shroud 

Woven  by  the  stacks,  whose  vomit  spreads 

Blight  o'er  the  desolated  meads. 

Where,  as  the  rueful  traveler  passed 
Across  the  pauper-crowded  waste 
Unroofed,  dismantled,  windowless, 
Inhabited  in  noisomeness, 
The  tottering,  doorless  houses  spued 
On  the  black  road,  their  naked  brood, 
Clamoring  for  bread  at  each  approach 
Of  the  slow,  grinding,  deafened  coach. 
While  men,  and  women,  ragged,  soiled, — 
Fathers  !  and  mothers  ! — silent  scowled, 
In  dull  and  simmering  rage,  at  those 
Whose  scattered  pence  revealed  their  foes. 


His  victims.  197 


Throughout  the  spreading  misery 

Live  Engines  writhe  in  agony, 

Their  iron  chains  clanking,  wildly  whirled 

In  torment  screeching,  while  the  World 

Of  shrieking  dissonance  in  scare, 

Lies  jarred  and  trembling  round  their  lair. 

But  night-time  in  that  greed-cursed  ground ! 

Then,  each  huge  factory  seemed  a  mound, 

Where  Titans  wounded,  prison-held 

By  angry  gods,  in  anguish  yelled, 

All  prone,  beneath  their  high-heaped  wrath, 

And  wailed,  and  moaned, and  shrieked  for  Death, 

And  to  Olympus,  pitiless, 

Complained  in  hating  helplessness. 

The  torments  they  endured,  as  Rage 

Almighty  lowered  above  their  cage. 

Night !  in  the  hideous  blasted  spot ; 

Night !  when  each  furnace  glared  red-hot : 

When  darkness  clov'n  by  lurid  beams, 

Echoed  with  hoarse  and  blasphemous  screams 

Of  flitting  shades,  who  strove  to  reach 

The  deafened  sense,  with  howling  speech. 

Night !  when  each  chimney,  as  a  pyre, 

Belched  day's  smoke,  changed  to  purpled  fire. 

Night !  when  the  rattling,  crashing  din 

Of  every  strange  and  wierd  machine 

Broke  like  fiend's  laughter  thro'  the  gloom, 

At  toilers  groping  to  their  doom, 

As  feeding  monsters  in  their  caves, 

They  earned  the  wage  of  crusts  and  graves. 


198  The  base  of  Society. 

Night !  Pestilence  with  Terror  tramps 
Thro'  the  foul  lanes  where  Toil  encamps, 
Whose  air  and  water,  drink  and  breath, 
Laden  alike  with  spores  of  death, 
The  husband  drove,  with  stagg'ring  feet, 
To  snatch  from  gin  a  quicker  fate. 

Night!  the  dead-cart  with  rumbling  wheels, 
From  out  the  gruesome  shadow  steals 
Across  the  furnace  flare,  to  show 
The  orphan's  grief  and  widow's  woe, 
Keening  and  screaming,  as  they  make 
A  "  walking  funeral  "  in  its  wake. 

Night !  at  the  windlass  on  the  drift 

The  smeared  stars  fade,  as  "shift"  meets  "shift," 

Driven  ere  the  dawn,  to  seek  their  food — 

By  danger  massed,  in  solitude, 

As  each,  within  his  narrow  seam, 

Upon  his  side,  by  flickering  gleam, 

Beneath  the  threatening  roof,  half  propped, 

Which  yester  on  his  fellow  dropped, 

With  cramped  pick  drives  Ms  moiling  way, 

Yet  farther  from  the  sun-robbed  day, 

Shining  at  the  pit  mouth,  as  far, 

To  seeming,  as  a  setting  star. 

Night  there  's  eternal.     Never  gleam 
For  soul,  or  life,  of  Heaven's  beam. 
The  plodding  wretch,  whom  Fate  appears 
To  loathe,  as  thro'  his  snail-paced  years, 
Each  hour  knows  all  of  death,  as  Damp 


Beneath  '•"Redeeming  G-race"  199 

Seeks  through  the  mine  a  broken  lamp, 

Sells  light  for  breath,  to  find  a  tomb, 

Where  noise  is  danger, —  danger,  doom, — 

Or  lives,  if  life  it  is,  to  see 

His  toil  but  earn  deformity. 

Lives !     Stranger  on  the  earth,  he  sees 

On  Sabba-day  thro'  drunken  eyes, 

With  vices  cataract,  that  requite 

The  terrors  of  his  week-long  night ; 

While  Imitation-Christs,  with  hair 

By  hatchets  split,  from  church  doors  stare 

At  the  grimed  foreigner,  and  tax 

Faith's  pen  for  evangelic  tracts, 

To  teach  him  how  to  cleanse  his  soul 

From  sin,  in  a  baptismal  bowl, 

Whose  skin,  with  water  unacquaint, 

Would,  were  he  hermit,  prove  him  saint; 

To  teach  him  Christian  hope  and  fear, 

Rich  with  his  "baccy"  and  his  beer. 

In  vain  all  talk  of  Hell's  hard  fare  ; 

Bred  in  the  mine, —  he  does  not  scare. 

Night  there  !  Ah  !  darkness  lines  her  pall, 
Though  Mammon  hears  his  hired  priest  call, 
"  Let  there  be  light !  "  For  light  is  not 
Where  Greed  assigns  his  brother's  lot. 

The  night  that  Heaven  sends  Man  for  rest, 
The  night,  with  peace  and  quiet  blest, 
Is  stolen  from  Toil,  to  heap  the  debt 
His  brutal  intellect  owes  to  sweat, 
Who,  standing  on  his  balance  sheet, 


200  Law  denies  the  creator's  title. 

Indignantly  denies  the  cheat 
Of  the  curst  system,  that  bestows 
All  Labor's  profit  on  his  foes, 
And  spoils  a  thousand  homes  to  rear 
A  son  M.  P.,  a  grandson  peer. 

And  when  times  come,  as  come  they  must, 
When  scant  demands  new  price  adjust ; 
When  money,  yard-stick  measuring  worth, 
Law  changed,  creates  fictitious  dearth, 
He  damps  his  engine-fires,  and  oils 
His  looms ;  while  on  his  gathered  spoils 
Living  in  luxury, — they're  his. — 
While  those  who  earned  them,  in  th'  abyss 
Of  wageless  misery,  starving  die, 
Till  new  demand  asks  new  supply. 

Or  on  the  ashed  and  dusty  road, 

The  clemmed  and  red-eyed  wretches  plod, 

To  meet  in  Labor-Unions,  where 

Each  speech  intensifies  despair  ; 

As  Saxon  words  in  accents  stern 

Burst  from  their  hearts,  whose  eyes  discern 

In  capital  protect  by  laws, 

The  hungry  beak  and  griping  claws, 

Which  from  Toil's  entrails  rive  and  rend, 

The  accursed  and  swollen  dividend. 

If  fires  are  kindled  which  find  vent, 
While  Mammon  prates  of  "Discontent," 
In  blazing  ricks,  and  flame-swept  towns, 
Working  worse  ruin  on  the  clowns 


War  domesticated.  201 


Who  light  them,  as  their  "  Means  of  life  " 

Are  squandered  in  the  wanton  strife, 

Labor  is  dearest  when  too  cheap  ! 

Who  sows  the  wind  must  whirlwinds  reap ; 

And  States  on  labor  built,  purvey 

By  idleness  their  own  decay. 

Arson's  the  clerk  of  opulence, 

His  crime  is  charging  to  "  Expense  " 

Accumulated  theft,  to  meet 

His  master  with  a  balance  sheet. 

Just  Nature  for  the  item  calls, 

When  he  dares  decorate  his  walls 

With  priceless  paintings  of  fat  apes, 

Nibbling  pomegranates,  pines  and  grapes, 

While  legislating  fellow  dust 

A  criminal  who  craves  a  crust ; 

If  pride  before  destruction  goes, 

The  "balance"  is  not  forced,  God  knows! 

The  barking  press  but  bays  the  moon 

Whose  shimmering  shadows  show  "  Commune  " 

To  its  distraught  and  fear-racked  brains, 

If  savage  equity  ordains 

Destruction.     For  the  Commune's  might 

By  vote,  and  law  would  force  its  right. 

No  Jack  Cade  o'er  the  Commune  rules, 
Which  asks  for  tax  to  build  up  schools. 
Jack  Cades  are  those,  who,  having  power, 
Lock  on  your  youth  the  school-house  door 
And  steal  their  spelling-books  to  teach 
14 


202      Human  law — "Death  to  the  Unemployed" 


Newton's  Principia  to  the  rich ; 
Till,  as  a  gutter-snipe,  defiled 
Brutal  and  ignorant,  the  child 
Of  Labor,  wading  from  the  slums, 
A  voting  citizen  becomes  ; 
From  Kinder-gartens  of  the  streets 
In  prison  high-schools,  graduates 
With  perjured  ballots,  fists  and  bricks, 
To  argue  party  politics. 

Why  should  the  Commune  burn  ?    Such  guilt 
Not  his,  the  heir  of  all  that's  built. 
The  Commune  is,  because  Man  loves ; 
It  wars  with  laws  that  Greed  approves, 
And  struggling  for  the  highest  good, 
Its  claim  is,  Human  Brotherhood ! 

He  solitary  lives,  who  spurns 
Toil's  just  demand,  that  what  he  earns 
He  should  at  least  such  measure  share, 
As  fends  him  from  the  bleak  despair 
Of  alms  begrudged,  and  pauper  jail, 
When  trade  is  dull,  and  markets  fail. 
Aye !  He's  a  pike,  who,  as  he  feasts, 
The  toiler's  flesh  and  blood  digests ; 
His  balanced  book  will  not  rebate, 
Tho'  Greed  himself  might  advocate, 
That  wintering  the  working  bee, 
Is  prudent,  careful  husbandry. 

All  minnows,  they,  whose  thronging  school 
Wiggles  in  every  factory's  pool, 


Discord,  fruit  of  Injustice. 


Where  capital  through  the  machines 

It  owns,  all  Labor's  profit  gleans  ; 

Paying  day's  wage  to  one,  who  taught 

By  science,  for  a  hundred  's  wrought  ; 

Denying  Capital  in  brain 

And  muscle  any  share  of  gain, 

As  tho'  the  strength  that  wields  the  sledge  ; 

The  skill  that  ties  the  broken  threads  ; 

The  watchful  eye  that  scrapes  and  oils  ; 

The  care  that  'neath  the  stars  patrols  ; 

Were  all  inanimate,  full  paid, 

Suffered  to  be,  by  "  Laws  of  Trade," 

While  they  can  u  profit"  yield,  and  tossed 

Aside,  like  worn  out  looms,  when  cost 

Of  swill,  to  fill  their  emptiness, 

Of  rags  to  hide  their  nakedness, 

Is  proven  in  the  Counting  House, 

To  exceed  its  gain  on  Calicoes. 

Man  's  more  than  engines.     They  have  shared 

All  rights,  when  coaled,  oiled,  cleaned,  repaired 

Man  lives  by  Progress,  —  he  must  share 

His  dividends  ;  —  if  not,  he'll  scare 

The  skurrying  clouds,  with  frightful  glare 

Of  conflagrations  that  illume 

His  wider  woe,  and  deeper  gloom. 

Machines  are  daemons  when  they're  fed 
By  Capital  on  Labor's  bread  ; 
When,  rat-like  Arson,  hiding,  squeaks 
His  joy,  as  Night  in  terror  shrieks, 
And  redder  stars  than  Nature's  fleck 
Her  firmament,  from  Small  Soul's  wreck, 


204  Machinery — when  Diabolic. 

As  down  to  earth  its  timbers  crash, 

And  Small  Soul's  Factory  lies  in  ash, 

Grim  smiles  are  wreathed  round  Justice'  lip, 

As  tho'  she  saw  a  pirate  ship 

Struck  by  an  serolite,  and  straight 

Plunge  hellwards  with  its  horrid  freight. 

Commerce  had  lost  it,  'twas  Man's  bane, 

And  none  should  weep  save  Sons  of  Cain. 

They're  daemons,  when  their  iron  arms  wrench 

The  village  cobbler  from  his  bench, 

The  weaver  from  his  hearth-lit  loom, 

Its  blacksmith  from  his  forge,  and  doom 

Them,  out-worked,  fit  each  humbled  neck 

To  wages'  collar,  at  the  beck 

Of  Capital,  in  kenneled  street, 

Their  Freedom  sold  for  refuse  meat. 

Their  cottage  gardens,  weeds  o'er  grown, 

Deserted  for  the  squalid  town, 

Where  space  on  earth  to  dwell  denied, 

Packed  like  sardines,  their  victims  hide 

In  hive-like  tenements,  that  buzz 

With  bickerings  which  know  no  truce  ; 

Wedged  close  in  rented  rooms,  where  stench 

And  shelter,  measured  by  the  inch, 

Give  Greed's  last  profit,  rental  price, 

Too  great  for  Labor,  halved  by  vice  ; 

Each  smothering  in  his  neighbor's  breath, 

Gasping  in  air  that's  spored  with  death, 

As  dull  attrition's  lust-lit  flame 

Devours  all  love,  and  licks  up  shame, 

Till  Poverty  's  a  moral  waste, 

And  Virtue  wears  the  badge  of  Caste. 


When  Angelic.  205 


They're  angels,  trailing  Love  to  Earth, 
When  full-fed  men,  in  gleeful  mirth, 
See  automatic  workers  fling 
Upon  their  shoulders  robes  a  King 
Could  not  afford,  when  lives  were  spent 
Upon  pride's  purple  ornament, 
Now  wrapt  around  the  artizan 
By  the  deft  fingers  of  his  brain. 

WhenThought,with  steel-framed  muscles  wields 

On  Nature's  multifarious  fields, 

The  forces  her  arcana  grant 

'Gainst  human  ills  and  human  want, 

And  welds  and  binds  them,  for  the  increase 

Of  comfort,  pleasure,  happiness. 

They're  Socialist  as  each  whirling  wheel, 

Alive  with  its  inventor's  zeal, 

By  Genius  taught  to  know  its  pace, 

Revolves,  untiring,  in  its  place. 

No  gentleman  or  lady  there, 

Un toiling  with  the  workman  share, 

And  from  his  journals  steal  his  oil, 

To  leave  him  creaking  at  his  toil ; 

No  tramp,  with  broken  cogs,  for  grease 

Whines  pitiful,  in  idleness  ; 

No  friction  jars,  as  each  one  earns 

The  oil  it  uses,  as  it  turns. 

All  Socialist,  for  all  unite, 
And  for  one  purpose  blend  their  might, 
For  each  aids  all,  for  common  good, 
In  happy,  whirring  brotherhood. 


206  The  red-flag. 


O  !  Brothers  !  Such  was  the  intent 
Of  Nature.     Human  Government 
Disdains  her  law,  to  lubricate 
The  idlers  of  each  jarring  State, 
Whose  friction  legislation  shames, 
While  Insurrection's  axle  flames, 
And  with  the  hot  red  flag  of  thralls, 
Its  Order,  based  on  theft,  appals, 
For  landlord,  usurer,  vagabond, 
Never  beneath  the  red  flag  trained  ; 
But  over  workmen  it  will  float, 
Whene'er  the  "journals  "  grow  too  hot. 
And  if  to-day,  less  friction  racks 
The  State  machine,  'tis  Man  awakes 
From  his  long  swoon^  and  knows  its  cause, 
Not  Nature,  but  unequal  laws. 

When  Capital  and  Labor  meet 

On  equal  terms  in  balance  sheet, 

Machines  are  Socialist;  but  all 

Their  earnings  claimed  by  Capital, 

They  thrive  on  man,  as  Cannibal 

Upon  his  fellow.     Dearth  and  Death 

His  certain  fate  in  whom  their  teeth 

Are  fastened  by  the  Laws  of  Trade, 

And  Progress  flies  from  Earth,  dismayed 

To  see  inventive  skill  become 

His  deadly  enemy,  and  gloom 

Evolved  from  Science'  brightening  light, 

Which  should  irradiate  the  night 

Of  ignorance,  hunger,  discontent, 

In  which  his  wretched  years  are  spents 


The  fountain  of  Iniquity.  207 

Enshroud  his  future  with  the  pall 
Woven  in  the  looms  of  Capital. 


Nay,  who  is  this  ?  —  Time's  basest  spawn, 

Pander  at  wholesale,  glad  to  fawn 

For  paltry  pelf,  on  alias  quacks, 

Assessing  their  infernal  tax, 

The  credulous  and  ignorant 

Debauching,  by  advertisement. 

"  No  cure  !  no  pay!  'Tis  cheap  to  sin  ! 

The  risk  is  nothing. — Boys, — begin." 

No  longer  fear  the  poisoned  bed, 

Here  's  a  specific,  warranted. 

O  !  Maids  who  cling  to  chastity, 

Lust  need  not  dread  fertility. 

Prepared  for  all  emergency, 

Here  's  certain  "  cure  for  pregnancy." 

Who  's  this,  who  prostitutes  the  press, 
Man's  natural  lover,  to  caress 
His  purse-proud  master,  while  he  '11  jeer 
Toil,  claiming  Right,  as  mutineer 
'Gainst  Law  and  Order,  such  as  reigned 
In  Warsaw,  when  Suwarrow  stained 
With  patriot  blood  in  rivulets, 
Her  unsubdued,  rebellious  streets. 

This  livery  hack  with  padded  seat 
For  knaves,  who  stable-keeper  meet 
With  proper  fee,  as  they  astride 


208  Argumentum  baculinum. 

The  Editors,  to  office  ride. 
Buck-jumping  and  heel-flinging  when 
Black-mail  refused,  excites  their  spleen, 
But  ambling  kindly  when  they  feel 
The  silver  spurs  excite  their  zeal. 
Who  gaining  doable  profit,  print 
Lies  whose  insertion  's  paid,  on  lint, 
Blackened  with  poisons,  that  they  vend 
To  earn  the  second  dividend. 

A  licensed  libeller  each,  expert 
To  plash  e'en  virtue's  robe  with  dirt, 
Secure  from  legal  punishment, 
If  one  bribed  jury-man  dissent. 
(Such  throng  in  each  court's  corridor, 
And  greet  his  winking  counsellor.) 

Black-mail  his  profit — cash  his  creed, 

Curbed  now,  but  by  a  wholesome  dread, 

The  raw-hide  may  the  suit  precede  ; 

Excusable  its  chastisement, 

Its  weal  's  the  proper  argument 

To  force  retraction  when  the  key 

Is  found  to  the  "  Imperial  We." 

If  John  Smith  signed  his  name,  who'd  care 

For  John  Smith's  libel,  John  Smith's  sneer  ? 

The  "  We"  's  the  wide-mouthed  trumpet  blare, 

Of  "  I"  the  puny  slanderer, 

Whose  weak  lungs  thro'  his  blue  lips  toot 

The  organ's  wide  resounding  hoot. 

"  We  "  claims  endorsers  for  his  lie, 

Who  dares  not  preface  it  with  "  I," 


The  soul  poisoner.  209 


Tell  me,  what  chlorides  disinfect 

Your  homes,  when  men  like  these  collect 

With  suction  pumps,  the  sewer's  stench, 

And  ply  their  hose,  your  rooms  to  drench 

With  pestilence,  viler  than  that  hid 

In  rags,  by  quarantine  forbid, 

When  plagues  infest  a  foreign  land 

Whence  to  import  is  contraband. 

By  trade,  assassins,  every  sheet 

They  bawling  scatter  thro'  the  street, 

Must  stab  some  heart,  that  dogs  may  haste, 

The  libel,  spurting  death,  to  taste. 

/ 

The  sewer-fattened  publisher 

Of  triple  sheets,  is  murderer 

Of  souls,  by  head-lines,  prurient 

As  Rabelais,  drunken,  could  invent, 

Who  rakes  with  fine-tooth  comb  the  stews, 

And  scatt'ring  pox-scabs,  calls  them  "  News. 

Or  for  a  viler  profit,  deals 

In  assignation  "  personals  ;" 

Pimping  at  moderate  advance 

Upon  another  "  ad's  "  expense. 

O  !  Swoln  Chicago,  the  dull  tide 
That  floats  and  feeds  your  warehoused  pride, 
Poisoned  with  faeces,  blunts  your  nose, 
Till  the  skunk  cabbage  and  the  rose 
Compete  in  pleasuring  its  sense, 
Sniffing  as  perfume,  pestilence, 
Else  nausea  would  slime  your  streets, 
Your  stomach  turned  by  vice-fouled  sheets, 


210  The  Devil  Fish. 


The  issues  of  a  putrid  soul, 

Whose  rotting' body  nears  its  goal, 

Beyond  Parisian  skill  to  mend, 

Wandering  on  earth,  without  a  friend. 

Foreign  to  Man,  so  full  of  bile, 

A  sneer  's  the  back  ground  of  its  smile, 

Even  now,  as  Swedenborgians  tell, 

'Tis  damned  in  life,  and  breathes  in  hell. 

The  Devil-fish,  with  cartilage 
As  sucking  arms  for  equipage 
Of  a  digestion,  which  from  mud 
Absorbs  its  gross,  repulsive  food, 
And  growing  quadrupled  as  Time 
Wider  expands  the  tissued  slime, 
Is  Nature's  fittest  congener 
To  those  whose  daily  threat  and  sneer 
Attack  blind  Labor's  stumbling  steps, 
As  he  to  his  fruition  gropes. 

And  these,  who  charity  blaspheme, 
Who  gird  the  weak,  and  hunt  the  lame  ; 
Who  sneer  at  a  parental  state, 
And  crimes  unknown  before,  create. 
Are  these  of  women  born,  whose  breasts 
For  helplessness  flow  sugared  feasts  ? 
They're  shaped,  as  of  the  human  race, 
But  never  mammal  was  so  base 
As  find  a  crime  in  wretchedness, 
And  add  to  misery,  duress. 
Why!  even  the  filthy  sewer-rat 
Has,  of  his  fellow,  no  such  hate. 


The  Tramp  Law — *~  guilty  till  proven  inndcent."    211 

His  blind  he  has  been  seen  to  lead 

Where  he  could,  with  his  fellows,  feed. 

Tho'  he,  affinity  can't  trace, 

The  rat,  obscene,  still  loves  his  race. 

The  rodent  mouths  that  lead,  with  straws, 

Spit  scorn  on  men  who  pass  ''Tramp  Laws;" 

Immeasurable  distance  parts 

Man,  from  such  men,  devoid  of  hearts. 

If,  living  in  society, 

Man  parts  with  natural  liberty, 

His  right  to  freedom  is  restored, 

Wherever  Law  does  not  afford 

Him  work  and  wage  for  willing  hand, 

But  leaves  him,  -shelterless,  to  stand 

The  long  day  in  the  market-place 

Unhired,  unfed,  with  hopeless  face. 

So  'tis  no  favor,  but  a  debt 

He  asks,  who  craves  for  leave  to  sweat; 

And  'till  he  has  refused  the  "  Means 

Of  Life  "  he  's  offered,  Justice  screens 

Him  from  all  crime,  though  Poverty 

Resorts,  for  bread,  to  beggary. 

"Presumption"  holds  him  innocent 

Of  any  criminal  intent. 

Until,  by  proper  proof,  'tis  shown 

That  Nature  has  condemned  a  drone. 

And  yet  Law's  minions  bring  to  task 
The  pinched,  wan  face,  that  dares  to  ask. 
Wisconsin  hunger  goes  unfed, 
And  crime  of  rags  earns  prison  bread. 


212     Pity  "  accessory"  to  the  crime  of  Poverty. 

The  empty,  rumbling  viscera 

Of  every  tramp  offends  her  law. 

Even  Wordsworth,  thro'  jail  bars  might  stare, 

If  he  took  his  "  Excursion  "  there 

And  ventured,  "  Madam,  if  you  please, — 

I  faint ;  bestow  me  bread  and  cheese." 

If  Bunyan's  Pilgrim  met  the  view 

Of  her  policeman,  from  "  the  slough  '' 

Emerging,  with  his  burden  lost, 

He'd  meet  the  sheriff  as  his  host ; 

For  sins  are  very  "  visible 

Means  of  subsistence  ;"  and  the  cell 

Would  herd  the  Apostles,  if  without 

Purse-bearing  Judas  they  were  caught  ; 

Since  fish,  w^th  pennies  in  their  gills, 

Are  now  too  scarce  to  pay  th3  bills 

They'd  have  to  foot,  if  bare  of  scrip 

They  ventured  on  soul-saving  trip. 

Her  shallow  "  Justice"  has  the  cause 

Decided,  ere  the  bailiff's  paws 

Are  off  the  shivering,  ragged  wretch, 

Who  dared,  upon  Earth's  bosom,  stretch 

His  famine-shriveled,  aching  limbs, 

And  feast  his  emptiness  by  dreams 

Of  wholesome  food  he  never  eats; 

Of  human  love  he  never  meets. 

And  sad-eyed  Pity  he  should  chide 

Who  with  the  famished  dares  divide 

Her  tear-wet  crust ;  she  wrong  connives 

And  should  be  sentenced  to  his  gyves. 

Law's  phame  should  flush  her  gentle  breast 

Who  hopes  by  blessing  to  be  blest. 


Non'equidem  invideo,  miror  magis.  213 

For  if  'tis  criminal  to  receive, 

'Tis  surely  wickedness  to  give. 

No  Catholic  by  "good  works"  can  win 

His  Heaven,  where  charity  is  sin. 

So  saints  must  follow  Calvin  there, 

And  earn  their  bliss  by  faith  and  prayer. 

Her  guilty  paupers,  fair  Racine 

Sees  go  in  fat  and  come  out  lean ; 

Their  swill-fed  stomachs  vainly  yearn 

For  food,  while  they  piano  earn, 

On  which  fat  fingers  music  thrum 

That  wails  of  love  in  discord's  home. 

In  every  legislature  snarls 

Some  pampered  cur,  like  barking  Quarles, 

At  poverty,  that  dares  intrude 

His  master's  gate,  in  search  of  food, 

And  sets  his  teeth  in  Lazarus'  leg 

If  Dives'  crumbs  he  dares  to  beg. 

If  he,  who  with  the  yelping  street 

Let  Lazar'  share  his  refuse  meat 

Now  glares  from  Hell,  and  begs  the  "  Tramp  " 

Across  the  gulf  for  something  damp, 

The  abyss  they'll  herd  in,  who  now  "  sic  '' 

Such  hounds  at  sores  they're  fit  to  lick, 

Must  be  beyond  glad  Lazarus'  sight. 

And  where  !  O  !  where,  the  dogs  that  bite  ? 

Are  these  not  Pikes,  whose  livelihood 
Is  gained  by  an  unending  feud 
Which  wars  with  every  instinct  given 
For  solace  here,  or  hope  of  Heaven  ? 


214  Argumentum  ad  hominem. 

Fain  would  I  stop,  but  here,  again, 
The  ermine  hides  a  pike  in  grain. 
It  shan't  protect,  he  need  not  strip, 
For  thro'  it  the  indignant  whip 
Of  Honor  can  his  shoulders  gash, 
Who  murders  confidence  for  cash. 

As  Stidger's  climbing  monkey  showed 

Posteriors  to  a  wider  crowd, 

And  more  offended  taste,  as  perched 

On  his  high  pole,  his  seat  he  smirched  ; 

So  he,  who  up  the  "  caucus  "  crawls — 

Until  a  judge,  the  mob  installs, 

For  neither  probity,  nor  sense, 

For  learning,  nor  for  eloquence, 

But  for  the  livery  on  the  back 

Of  the  straight-ticket  voting  hack, — 

Climbing  from  his  obscurity, 

Will  shame  with  his  immodesty, 

The  blushing  voters,  as  they  stare 

With  rounded  eyes,  at  buttocks  bare, 

Yet  more  exposed,  as  greater  height 

Advantage  gives  of  wider  sight, 

Still  smearing,  as  they  strain,  each  rung 

Of  Honor's  ladder,  with  their  dung. 

Though  earning  modest  salary 

Of  thirty  dollars,  every  day 

He  sits  six  hours  on  cushioned  seat, 

And  blinks  at  victims  in  the  net, 

Y'clept  of  Justice,  diet  for 

Each  rav'ning  saw-toothed  orator, 


Tweedle-dum  and  Tweedle-dee.  215 

The  legal  income  for  cabal 
Elected  judge  is  yet  too  small ; 
Beggar  on  horseback  !  see  him  ride ! 
Gallop  he  must,  else  why  astride. 
The  mediocre  needing  "  style  " 
To  gain  scant  reverence,  must  beguile 
A  "  Thousand  "  from  a  trusting  friend, 
And  take  it  as  a  dividend 
Upon  invested  love,  as  bawd 
Reciprocates  regard  with  fraud. 


Ask  Knickerbocker— What  is  Theft  ? 

He  knows  the  law,  his  dollars  left 

Him  legally,  an  autograph 

Of  Williams  is  their  epitaph. 

But  when  his  hand  insanely  gropes 

His  empty  pocket-book,  what  tropes 

His  tongue  will  struggle  with,  and  fret, 

To  draw  Law's  line  'twixt  Theft  and  Debt. 

Hear  him,  with  legal  acumen, 
The  difference,  terminal,  explain, 
'Twixt  "  Tweedle-dum,"  and  "  Tweedle-dee," 
'Twixt  confidence,  and  larceny. 
"  The  purse  when  emptied  by  a  note 
For  Restitution  sues  in  "  Debt." 
But  money  stolen,  courts  replace 
Through  "Capias,"  "Replevin,"  "Case." 
He  who  with  shotted  silken  string- 
Drop  t  deftly  in  the  purse,  can  bring 
By  gentle  tugging,  loss  and  grief 
Upon  its  owner,  is  a  thief. 


216  Facinus,  quos  inquiriat,  aequat. 


Aye,  Thief !    e'en  tho'  the  breaking  thread 
Should  disappoint  the  intended  raid, 
And  his  quick  grasping  hand  ne'er  clutch 
The  plunder  that  evades  his  touch. 

But  he,  who  using  friendship's  cord, 
Has  sympathetic  feeling  stirred, 
And  drawn  his  plunder  from  the  heart, 
In  Law's  no  thief,  he's  only  smart. 

Asjudge^he  can  adjudicate 

His  punishment,  who  placed  by  fate 

Too  near  temptation,  nerveless,  fell 

As  erst  the  mariner,  to  the  spell 

Of  Circe,  when  the  sorceress'  wine 

Men  metamorphosed  into  swine. 

Yes !  grieve !  because  he  can  not  stretch 

The  sentence  of  the  sorry  wretch, 

Who  trusted  with  the  key,  unlocks 

The  vault  high-piled  with  watered%stocks, 

And  paying  eight  per  cent,  in  gold, 

On  an  increase  of  thirty-fold  ! 

(No  Theft  in  that !  no  Wrong  !  no  Fraud ! 

'Tis  "profit"  by  the  Law  allowed.) 

So  Angell  garbed  in  Joliet  stripe, 
By  the  order  of  his  prototype, 
Awakes  the  careless  gods'  guffaw, 
At  vindicated  human  law. 
And  surly  Minos  hears  them  flout 
His  too  discriminating  knout, 
Whose  equal  lash  alike  should  fall 


Corporation  Lawyers.  217 


On  judge,  and  sentenced  criminal; 
While  Lachesis  in  anger  throws 
A  quicker  shuttle,  that  like  clothes 
May  fit  a  filching  judge  when  "  Time  ! " 
Is  called  by  the  Commune  on  Crime. 
Both  judge  and  thief  from  Hades  see 
Grandsons  deny  their  pedigree. 

Perhaps,  but  oft  the  father's  shame 

By  the  descendant  's  held  for  fame, 

For  human  nature  is  so  queer, 

That  many  an  ancestral  smear 

Is  halo-circled,  and  disgrace 

Seems  honor  to  a  dwindling  race. 

And  who  can  say  that  Williams'  strain 

Next  century,  will  not  be  vain  ? — 

Talents  like  his  are  in  demand, — 

To-day,  a  premium  command, 

As  sharks,  a  pilot  fish  require, 

So  corporations  keep  on  hire 

Attorneys,  like  them,  conscience-dead, 

To  show  on  what,  and  where  to  feed. 

For  such  place,  such  director  's  fit, 

Where  salary  adds  to  perquisite ; 

Such  place,  well-filled,  his  heirs  may  boast, 

While  Hades  racks  the  griping  ghost. 

Why  !  British  peers  are  proud  to  show 
Descent  from  lustful  Charles'  bye-blow, 
And  on  each  carriage  panel  paint 
Bend-sinister  to  prove  the  taint 
Inherited  through  leprous  blood, 
15 


218  Pride  of  Ancestry. 

That  earned  from  Royal  lust,  the  fetid 
By  conquering  Norman  dedicate 
To  meet  the  expenses  of  the  State  ; 
And  many  a  lordling's  grand  and  rich 
Because  he  's  grandson  of  a  bitch, 
Whose  coat  of  arms  in  Pall  Mall  proves 
Honor  descends  from  harlot  loves. 
What's  in  a  name,  De  Young  ?     Transport 
Kalloch's  aspersion  to  the  Court, — 
The  angry  mob  that  howled  to  lap 
Your  blood,  would  doff  its  greasy  cap, 
And  rave  for  Kalloch's,  if  convinced 
Your  dam  had  fired  a  jaded  prince. 

From  Pocahontas,  F.  F.  V. 

Is  proud  to  trace  his  pedigree, 

Who  tumbled  in  a  curtjupon 

Before  thief-listed  garrison, 

And  won  its  heart,  as  pirouette 

Made  old  men  grin  and  young  men  fret. 

Yet  who  would  wonder  if  our  Carter 

Claimed,  ancestress,  Powhatan's  daughter, 

Never  was  wealthy  Democrat, 

But  was  at  heart,  Aristocrat. 

Who  voting  cattle  held  in  scorn, 

Dyed  "  Dimekrats  "  e'er  they  were  born, 

And  for  some  cause  or  other,  felt 

That  he  was  better  than  the  Celt. 

Yet  Irish  boast  the  brutal  horde 

Who  fell,  before  the  Round-head's  sword, 


The  stools  that  stood  in  Tara's  halls.          219 

With  pendant  ossa  coccygi, 

The  substitutes  for  modesty, 

That  Nature  hung  upon  the  sterns 

Of  savage,  faith-taught,  priest-led  Kernes — 

Who  howled  in  hell,  while  Cromwell  saw 

Their  corpses  stripped  at  Drogheda, — 

Proud  their  ancestral  line  to  trace 

To  Bhrian  Bhorhoim's  bobtailed  race, 

And  prove  it  by  the  rounded  holes 

That  fitted  them,  in  heirloom  stools. 

So  Puritans,  in  Cotton  Mather, 
Boast  of  their  spiritual  father, 
Whose  faith  was  a  perpetual  itch 
To  hang  a  quaker,  or  a  witch, 
Who,  murder  hallowing,  enjoyed 
A  life  of  bliss  in  righting  God, 
And  taught  his  nibbling  flock  to  bleat, 
All  terrorized  by  faith,  for  meat ; 
And  fed  them  on  it,  till  their  breath 
Stank  of  their  food,  thro'  canine  teeth. 

Another  picture  I  must  place 

In  the  Rogues'  Gallery,  of  his  face, 

For  Justice  urges  every  stripe 

I  lay  upon  him.  he's  a  type. 

Beyond  his  shoulders,  every  weal 

They  shrink  from,  makes  a  thousand  squeal, 

Whose  "paper,"  issued  by  the  Bank 

Of  Confidence,  awards  them  rank, 

Among  the  broadclothed  hordes  who  clan 

To  prey  upon  the  Artizan, 


220  Ex  uno  disce  omnes. 

By  drawing  dividends  that  are  made 

On  stocks  subscribed,  but  never  paid : 

Chartered  for  fraud,  their  gain  their  own, 

Their  loss  on  the  deposits  thrown. 

Simple  the  plan  of  each  machine, 

'Tis  "  Tails  you  lose,''  and  "  Heads  they  win." 

His  note  as  Capital,  in  vault 

Of  Savings  Bank  now  makes  default, 

Tho'  year  by  year  the  investment  gave 

Him  annual  profit  on  each  shave 

That  Haines'  notched  razor  scraped  from  Toil 

Well  lathered  by  his  soapy  smile. 

So  Judge  Financier  riches  got 

By  dividends  upon  his  debt. 

To  you  to-day,  this  man  owes  rank — 
Director  of  the  Glasgow  Bank, 
Law-English  would  his  ermine  strip, 
And  parti-color  back  and  hip, 
Would  tap  and  draw  his  dropsied  gain, 
And  drive  him  from  the  haunts  of  men, 
Lest  babes  in  frightened  wombs  grow  ripe 
Untimely,  with  his  Zebra  stripe. 

Sharks  govern  England, — live  on  rent, 
Such  pikes  as  this  they  must  prevent 
Gorging  on  tenants,  lest  they  lose 
Ability  to  pay  their  dues. 
Impairing  landlords'  revenues. 
Minnows  are  dedicated  there 
Shark-food,  so  pikes  had  best  beware. 


Set  the  yeese  to  guard  the  lettuce.  221 

How  shame  a  pike  ;  again  your  vote 

He  asks,  despite  his  thieving  note, 

Which  has  no  "  credit,"  though  for  years 

His  salary  paid,  shows  no  arrears. 

Tho'  Honor  would  a  miser  scare 

To  make  such  paper  worth  its  par. 

Give  it,  O  !  minnows,  when  he  craves, 

Why  not !  Tis  fit  that  English  knaves 

Default  of  sharks  eat  wages'  slaves. 

You're  made  for  provender,  God  meant 

Creating  minnows,  nutriment. 

All  priests  can  prove  the  fact;   since  Paul, 

Denying  it  's  schismatical. 

What  differ,  whether  Hammei'head 

Or  Esox  Williams  on  you  feed, 

The  almighty  potter  knows  his  trade 

You're  vessels  for  dishonor  made. 

"  Enough  !  Enough  !  "  St.  Lawrence  cried, 

Half-basted  ;  u  Spare  the  other  side." 

"'Tis  not  enough  !  "  the  gridiron  fizzed, 

"  Half-roast  is  but  half-canonized." 

It  takes  another  turn  to  make 

Of  such  dry  flesh  a  juicy  steak, 

You  furnish  suet,  I  will  baste 

O  !  Storey  !  till  he'll  please  your  taste. 

Yet,  when  you  smack  your  lips,  all  men 

Will  vote  him  Saint,  and  Judge  again. 

The  ladle, — here, — when  painful  Thrift, 
With  coppers  saved  by  many  a  shift, 
Sought  safety  for  his  children's  bread, 


222  Fidelity. 


He  saw  the  Judge  Financier  shed 

Such  lustre  on  "  Fidelity," 

He  grew  assured  of  solvency, 

And  showers  of  nickels  filled  the  rill 

Which  drove  the  wheels  of  Mammon's  mill. 

Then  see  the  Judge,  hydraulic  ram 

Apply  the  rippling,  dancing  stream  ; 

And  as  its  gentle  current  flows, 

His  house  is  built,  with  what  he  owes. 

Your  treasure  on  the  avenue 

In  marble-front,  now  meets  your  view. 

If  your  patched  overalls  dare  stroll 

The  pave,  where  Wealth  and  Fashion  roll 

On  smoothly  swaying  springs  (to  feasts 

Your  nickels  pay  for)  Williams'  guests. 

Ah !  Brother  Toilers !  'tis  by  Law 
Knaves  sleep  in  down,  and  you  in  straw. 
How  dare  you  with  deposits  aid 
The  Usurer's  unholy  trade, 
Participators  of  th'  offence  ? 
Your  loss  is  your  just  recompense. 

With  emptied  purses  you  may  moan 
Your  trust  misplaced  in  dog  of  stone ; 
The  only  guard  the  charter  gave 
Your  wealth,  and  he  upon  the  pave. 
No  bark  escaped  his  faithless  throat, 
Tho'  funds  withdrawn,  saw  Williams'  note 
Balance  the  cash,  and  hide  the  void 
As  though  a  burglar  had  employed 


And  yet  he  was  an  honorable  man.  223 

A  few  spare  moments  to  indite 

A  promissory,  by  the  light 

Of  his  bull's  eye,  and  thus  requite 

The  treasury  with  a  neat  filled  blank, 

To  prove  he'd  carried  off  the  Bank. 

Smoothly  the  golden  current  ran 
The  stream's  force  drove  it,  never  plan 
For  legislating  wealth  could  vie 
Its  " profit"  till  the  stream  ran  dry. 
Eleven  thousand  mint  drops  raised, — 
How  many  windows  now  are  glazed 
With  old  boots,  petticoats  and  hats. 
How  many  unkempt,  shoeless  brats 
Skim  swill  barrels,  since  a  judge  impure 
For  ostentation  robbed  the  poor, 
Now  bursting  as  the  wind-filled  frog 
Who  rivalled  ox  that  neared  his  bog. 

Now  take  your  Saint,  ye  knaves  that  throne 

The  dollar,  and  its  Godhead  own, 

Republicans  who've  lost  all  claim 

To  Stunner's  party  but  its  name, 

The  dirty  bird  that  fouls  its  nest, 

Down  whose  wide  throat  your  food  is  pressed. 

I  think  he's  roasted,  tho'  the  oil 

Gave  out,  and  it  may  be  a  broil. 

He'll  answer, — you  may  build  a  shrine, 

When  Gold  is  God,  the  man  's  divine. 

So  work  to-day,  a  myriad  rams, 

As  Cunning,  conscienceless,  builds  dams 


224  Legal  money. 


To  catch  the  little  rills  that  through 
The  Law -parched  fields  of  Labor  flow. 
The  dams  ne'er  burst  by  plethora, 
Tis  legal  thieves  that  pump  them  dry. 

Would  you  know  how  and  why,  I'll  spend 
Some  doggerel  on  that— attend — 

Wealth  can't  be  made  by  law ;  two  modes 
Men  have  attempted  ;  one  explodes 
Scarce  made  ;  the  other  slow  corrodes, 
Leaks  all  the  oil,  from  ashes  pressed, 
Then  panic  squats  on  "  profit's"  breast. 

Lauriston's  Law  did  scheme  invent 

Of  wealth  create  by  government, 

And  floated  France  on  wings  of  wax, 

(The  eighteenth  century's  greenbacks, 

The  poet  meant  who  saw  them  melt 

And  after,  poor  Icarus  smelt.) 

The  government  stamped  value  there, 

Gold  glittered  in  the  atmosphere, 

Of  wealth  creating  Lawgiver, 

And  France  to  meet  the  mirage,  flew, 

Then  on  a  sand  bank  met  the  Jew. 

The  Interest  ate  the  Principal, 

And  every  son  of  Israel 

Was  happy  as  his  sire  of  old 

When  running  off  with  Egypt's  gold. 

Thus  France,  by  her  experience  shows 

Creating  wealth  's  creating  woes. 


Credit  -  Wealth.  225 


The  other  mode  's  more  roundabout, 

Effect  the  same, — is  cause  in  doubt  ? 

By  it,  a  dollar  earned,  the  State 

Can  by  a  Statute  copulate, 

And  in  a  year  it  will  augment 

In  actual  bulk,  full  ten  per  cent. 

(Sherman  gets  four,  large  bodies  move 

With  lazier  legs  to  slower  love, 

But  ten  the  Christian  still  expects, 

The  limit  that  the  law  protects.) 

I  never  yet  could  comprehend 

What  juices  with  the  metal  blend, 

Or  how  it  is  oviparous, 

I  think  the  growth  is  marvelous, 

If  not,  in  fact,  miraculous 

That  Law  no  greater  force  has  spent 

Gend'ring  the  dollar,  than  the  cent. 

If  dollar-making  Law  is  crime, 

The  cent  is  made  by  Law  and  Time, 

And  Interest's  but  another  name 

For  Law-made  wealth,  th'  effect  the  same. 

Issu&  Greenbacks  to-day, — Perhaps 

You've  wealth,  if  Credit  swells  the  scraps. 

Interest  allowed,  you  date  your  act 

A  year  ahead  to  take  effect, 

'Tis  Credit's  wealth  alone  is  lent 

To  worth,  when  Usury  adds  per  cent. 

Ten  hundred  to  the  borrower, 

Eleven  to  the  usurer, 

The  hun'dred  dollars  in  his  claw, 

Is  that  not  made,  and  made  by  law  ? 


226  The  cause  of  "Panics" 

O !  Friends  of  Williams,  Bankers,  Jews, 

How  dare  you,  Greenback  men  abuse, 

And  claim  you're  chaste,  Rag-baby  spurn, 

Because  yours  is  "  a  little  one  ! 

Is  this  "  a  little  one  !"  whose  clutch 

Drags  yearly  from  dazed  Labor's  hutch 

His  winnowed  grain,  and  each  decade 

Leaps  from  his  legal  ambuscade, 

With  panic  fury  in  the  arm 

Of  principal  to  drag  his  farm 

By  Court's  decree  and  Sheriff's  deed 

Into  the  bursting  vaults  of  greed  ? 

Credit  makes  wealth  by  Usury 

As  Greenback  laws  by  lunacy. 

Until  the  aggregate  of  debt 

Outweighs  Toil's  strength,  defies  his  sweat, 

Each  year,  the  annual  compound 

Of  interest  on  the  money  loaned 

Enhances  value,  while  men  hold 

Security  as  good  as  gold, 

(No  honest  deacon  is  content 

With  less,  where  Law  gives  ten  per  cent.) 

And  though  the  intrinsic  worth  remains 

The  same,  the  nominal  attains 

Abnormal  size,  as  every  sale, 

Yields  "profit"  till  the  debtors  fail. 

Then  every  creditor  demands 

His  cash,  or  doubles  it  in  lands. 

When  the  huge  principals  compel 

A  market  forced,  as  Sheriffs  sell. 


The  Panic."  227 


The  "Universal  Customer" 

Ceases  to  be  a  purchaser  ; 

Retailer,  Merchant,  Factor,  all, 

Must  meet  their  paper,  prices  fall 

Quick,  fast,  and  faster,  as  they  rush 

Goods  on  the  market,  lest  the  swash 

Of  wid'ning  bankruptcy  engulf 

The  wealth  of  credit,  Nature's  pelf. 

By  competition,  shriveled  price, 

Of  product  shrinks  to  sacrifice, 

Till  market  worth  is  less  than  cost, 

And  all  the  wealth  of  Credit 's  lost. 

Economy  then  thrives  on  Life, 

With  purchasers  the  market 's  rife, 

Each  glad  to  see  his  fellows  wane, 

Each  glad  to  profit  by  their  pain. 

Products  buy  dollars,  Trade  's  reversed. 

And  Nature's  last,  the  Jew,  is  first. 

The  pawnshop  and  the  avenue 

Hold  grinning,  whimp'ring  interview. 

Beauty  holds  virtue  out  for  bread, 

Sometimes  she  starves,  but  oft'ner  's  fed. 

Thousands  of  Tramps  leave  Labor's  ranks, 

As  bummers  hover  on  the  flanks 

Of  army,  swinging  from  its  place 

To  get  supplies  from  other  base. 

The  money  that  the  borrower  got 

To  build  his  house,  takes  house  and  lot, 

And  leaves  a  judgment  entered  for 

His  wronged  and  suffering  creditor. 

His  boys  garrote  ;  his  houseless  pride 

A  refuge  seeks  in  suicide. 


228  Who  profit  by  the  "Panic" 


Fat  bankers  poke  each  other's  ribs, 
By  discount  coated  as  by  dibs, 
Their  paper  has  collateral, 
Its  bad,  but  not  their  funeral. 
In  Curseall's  parish  'twas  he  died, 
Who  but  a  fool  would  cry,  outside  ? 

So  each  decade  a  panic  crash 

Shrinks  Law-made  wealth  to  solid  cash. 

And  Labor,  spoiled  of  all  his  gain 

Is  driven  to  face  the  world  again, 

More  destitute  than  when  at  first 

His  delving  spade  found  earth  accursed. 

Again  he  heaps  his  little  store, 

Again  comes  Sodom  and  her  shower, 

To  punish  men  who  try  to  breed 

From  Gold's  base  womb, with  Law's  crazed  seed. 

The  weary  earth  her  weary  round, 

Still  whirls,  Gold  breeds,  and  Labor's  ground, 

The  man-made  monster  can  not  cease 

To  grow.     O  !  Brothers  give  release. 

The  Jew  takes  courage;  usuries  add, 

But  panics  triple  what  he  had. 

Messiah  yet  will  spring  to  birth, 

And  David's  throne  rule  all  the  earth, 

The  heathen  among  whom  he  plies 

The  unnatural  adulteries, 

Bond  men  and  maids  even  now  he  buys, 

In  happy  dreams,  his  'heritance 

Forever!  On  the  track  he  pants 

Of  universal  power,  as  gold 

By  usury  yearly  gains  on  mould. 


" Sangrado"  ftherman,  Panics  do  not  "happen."     229 

Ah  !  woe  is  me  !  for  Pharaoh's  host, 
For  Memphis'  pride,  and  Thebais'  boast, 
All  minnows  in  the  wild  waves  lost, 
While  these,  our  pikes,  in  safety  crossed. 
Oh  !  That  I  wielded  Moses'  rod, 
I'd  swamp  them  all, — I  would,  by  God  t 

These  Frahkensteins  that  thrive  on  sweat, 
By  human  laws  are  generate, 
Innumerous  they  flood  the  earth, 
And  rend  the  womb  that  gave  them  birth. 
Vermin,  or  tigers,  ceaseless  strife 
They  wage  against  man's  higher  life, 
Short  shrift  should  Labor's  robbers  have 
If  Man  were  wise  himself  to  save. 
In  self  defence,  O  !   Toilers, — smite 
Whatever  makes  your  Wrong  its  Right. 
Back  to  their  stolen  acres  send 
The  grime  and  misery,  that  offend 
The  eyes  of  Love,  where  Mammon's  stamp 
Calls  up  the  town,  his  sordid  camp. 
Where  Man  is  dwarfed  that  few  may  gain 
Abnormal  force  in  wealth  or  brain, 
Where  Greed  sees  in  the  immortal  soul 
Machine,  self-feeding  oil  and  coal : 
And  use  your  rescued  Liberty, 
To  found  on  Toil,  Fraternity. 

Where  rolls  the  mighty  Amazon 
His  turbid  torrents  to  the  sun, 
O'er  his  immeasurable  plain 
Still  vegetation  conquers  man  ; 


230  "Eat  or  be  eaten" 


Who  naked,  and  unsheltered,  roams 
Mid  Nature's  sempiternal  glooms, 
As  heat  and  moisture,  measureless, 
The  young  world's  virile  force  express, 
In  the  dark  forests,  matted,  dense, 
Where  life  is  riotous  to  sense  ; 
Whose  miasmatic  depths  defy 
His  feeble  fainting  energy, 
As  denser  jungles  mock  the  toil 
That  clears  and  grubs  the  fervid  soil. 

There  Emulation,  Craftiness, 

Aspiring  Greed  and  Selfishness 

In  struggle  for  existence  join 

Their  forces  in  the  tree  and  vine. 

The  stately  palm,  in  the  stern  strife, 

Changes  the  habits  of  his  life, 

Throws  off  the  graces  of  his  tribe, 

Forced,  or  to  die,  or  meet  its  jibe, 

And  climbs,  with  tendrils,  thro'  the  night 

Of  matted  foliage  to  the  light. 

u  Eat  or  be  eaten!  "  sole  Law  there, 

For  Nature's  God  is  deaf  to  prayer. 

A  baser  life  his  toils  requite, 

And  need  creates  a  parasite. 

So  in  the  thronged  and  bustling  street, 
Where  men  as  foes  their  fellows  meet, 
And  each  for  growth,  abnormal,  fights* 
The  weaker  must  be  parasites, 
And  losing  manhood,  shame  a  race, 
Whose  independence  is  its  grace. 


Nature1 8  Parasite*.  231 

There,  tho'  the  proud  mahog'ny  reigns, 

And  quelling  meaner  growth,  disdains 

His  hating  rivals,  who  assail 

With  ciaving  roots  his  conquered  soil. 

And  monarch  of  the  woods,  can  mock, 

With  wide-spread  base,  the  earthquake's  shock, 

While  rearing  high  his  gorgeous  head, 

Where  emeralds  their  lustre  shed. 

Tho'  his  majestic  trunk  repels, 
The  force  that  in  tornado  swells, 
Tho'  his  dense  fibres'  glowing  life 
A  world  wide  deluge  might  survive, 
Yet  when  the  prideful  giant  sees 
The  tk  murderous  lliana  "  clutch  his  knees, 
He  knows,  her  heart  pressed  to  his  bole, 
Relentless  death  has  seized  his  soul ; 
And  when  her  arms  around  him  strain, 
To  clutch,  and  form  new  source  of  pain  ; 
Behold  !  his  matchless  strength  and  grace 
All  shuddering  in  her  dire  embrace  ; 
His  doom  is  sealed,  as  ceaseless  climb 
Her  shaky  rings  around  his  stem. 
The  savage,  selfish  parasite 
That  blooms,  but  as  his  glories  blight, 
That  drains  the  life  of  her  support, 
And  in  his  death  pangs  finds  her  sport, 
Exultant  crawls  to  grasp  his  crown, 
Nor  heeds  his  sullen  senile  frown. 

Tho'  for  long  years  his  innate  force 
Half  animates  the  living  corse, 


2532  Vengeance  but  waits* 

His  fateful  day  arrives  at  length, 
And  all  his  beauty,  all  his  strength, 
Wrapped  in  her  paralyzing  bonds, 
Serve  but  to  lift  her  gleeful  fronds: 
A  leafless  skeleton  remains, 
That  tediously  to  Time  complains, 
Who  listens,  heeds,  and  points  the  way 
To  his  dead  heart  for  her  decay. 

Vengeance  but  waits.     When  Justice  calls 

"  Her  cup  is  full ! "  the  dead  King  falls, 

And  the  fierce  parasite  that  stole 

Her  substance  from  his  mould'ring  bole, 

Dies  on  an  earth  refusing  aid 

To  wretch,  who  on  her  fa v' rite  preyed. 

So  "  Profit"  drains  the  life  of  States, 
And  so  for  her  grim  vengeance  waits, 
The  hour  when  her  fierce  forces  strain 
All  wealth  to  hold,  all  power  to  gain. 

Then  cankered  Labor  pays  his  debt ! 
Foul  faces,  grimed  with  toil,  and  sweat, 
Like  spectres  from  the  Hell  of  want, 
Their  eyes  aglow  with  hatred,  haunt 
The  legislative  halls,  and  fill 
The  statutes  with  their  savage  will. 

And  horny  hands  of  fleshless  men — 
Wild  surging  from  foul  Labor's  den, 
Dizzy  with  sudden  light,  and  wrought 
To  frenzy  by  consuming  thought, 


Revolution.  233 


With  features  burnt  to  adamant 

In  the  hot  furnaces  which  Cant 

By  law  had  built,  and  raked,  and  stoked, 

While  Man  on  Mammon's  altar  smoked, 

So  hard  in  desperate  grimace, 

Each  savage,  unrelenting  face, 

That  pity's  fingers  could  not  trace 

In  all  the  raving  mob,  a  line 

To  tell,  "  Love  dwells  here  !  this  is  mine  " — 

'Round  her  hacked  head  on  Freedom's  pole 

Join  in  the  maddening  Carmagnole. 

And  gaunt  girls  whose  untoward  fate 
Had  been,  to  never  hesitate 
Between  the  brothel  and  the  joys 
Of  virtue,  for  they  had  no  choice. 
Born  victims  of  venality, 
Baptized  to  sensuality, 
Howl  rapture  as  they  prance  salute 
To  tittering,  naked  prostitute, 
High-throned  on  outraged  Reason's  seat, 
Parading  through  the  crimsoned  street, 
Whose  red-cap,  flared  as  tho'  Hell's  blaze 
Were  fed  by  their  demoniac  craze  ;  . 
With  wrinkled  bosoms,  never  filled 
By  the  glad  tides,  of  love,  distilled ; 
With  waving  arms  and  clinging  hair, 
And  laughs  whose  hate  intoned  despair ; 
And  flame-red  eyes,  whose  rolling  spheres 
Remorseless  glare  thro'  grief-baked  tears, 
"  9&  iras  "  shriek,  with  fury  hoarse, 
Around  her  quivering,  mangled  corse. 
16 


234  The  grists  of  the  gods. 

For  Man's  despairing  anguished  moan 
Wailing  the  weight  of  church  and  throne, 
On  profit  built,  by  taxes  "  farmed," 
Dry-rot  by  creed,  where  hell  reformed, 
Rose  to  such  yells  the  horrent  air, 
Shuddered  in  Revolution's  blare, 
As  if  the  spirits  of  all  winds 
Together  breaking  from  their  bonds, 
Joined  in  a  havoc-flooding  tide 
Were  howling  at  their  buttressed  pride, 
And  with  confused,  loud  clamors  rolled, 
And  jarring  crash,  their  drifting  gold. 

The  invisible  and  awful  might 

Of  Justice,  furious  for  Right, 

Long  gathering  in  the  thronging  cells 

Where  squalor,  with  bleared  ignorance  dwells. 

Burst  from  their  glooms,  to  atoms  rent 

All  Mammon's  law  and  precedent ; 

And  Earth,  God's  altar,  reeked  with  blood 

To  avenge  the  poor  upon  the  proud. 

It  did  !  aye,  justly !  did  and  will, — 
Man's  business  on  the  earth  's  to  kill 
Savage  or  brute  that  works  his  ill. 
Man's  business  on  the  earth  's  to  quell 
Whatever  dares  'gainst  Right  rebel. 

Shall  Labor  moan  his  wasted  seeds  ? 
His  hoe  was  made  to  slaughter  weeds ;  4 

Shall  he  but  weep  his  ravaged  hive, 
While  crawling  worms  upon  it  thrive? 


tenebris  Lux.  235 


Shall  he  not  in  their  jungles  slay 

The  tigers  that  upon  him  prey? 

Does  not  the  Universal  Voice 

At  the  slain  tyrant's  doom  rejoice  ? 

Had  Nero  friend  on  earth,  save  sword 

Serf-held  to  meet  his  breast,  who  warred 

In  Nature's  bowels  till  her  purge 

On  dunghill  dropped  her  griping  scourge. 

Man's  business  here  's  to  conquer  guilt, 

War  to  the  knife,  and  knife  to  hilt ; 

'Tis  Nature's  currents  energize 

His  nerves,  her  plan  to  realize. 

Earth,  meant  for  Man  thro'  men  must  strain 

Till  God's  intent  rewards  her  pain. 

While  Nature's  torrents  rend  the  hill, 

And  with  its  debris,  valleys  fill, 

She  must  approve  perpetual  strife 

Till  equal  law  is  equal  life ; 

Labor  is  just,  her  God  to  feast, 

On  Baal's  system,  and  his  priest. 

Justice  is  mercy.     Life  demands 

Continuous  death  at  Nature's  hands. 

Time  's  Nature's  leveller.     He  spreads 
Earth's  frowning  hills  in  fertile  meads , 
The  powdered  crowns  upon  his  tide 
His  teeth  have  gnawed  from  cliffs  of  pride  ; 
Their  shredded,  cretinizing  crags 
Form  deltas  with  their  lint-scraped  rags, 
Till  broad  savannah  built  on  fen, 
Grants  equal  life  to  equal  men. 


236  Brahma. 


Aye !  justly !  The  same  laws  control 
The  bounding  ball,  and  surging  soul. 
Force  answers  force ;  who  dares  complain 
That  in  causation's  endless  chain, 
Reaction  springs,  to  equalize 
The  force  that  in  the  action  lies. 

Nature  is  Unit.     Moral  power, 

And  physical,  alike,  in  her 

Find  origin,  and  must  obey 

The  all-brooding,  all-pervading  Sway. 

Yea !  all  the  laws  of  physics  find 

Their  counterparts  in  laws  of  mind. 

For  all  existent  forms  of  Force 

Spring  from  one  elemental  source, 

And  co-related,  interchange 

Throughout  their  boundless,  circling  range. 

The  immeasurable  Universe 

Has  procreate  with  God,  and  stirs 

But  as  his  life  is  blent  with  hers.  , 

The  infinite  generation  pours 

Thro'  all  that  creeps  to  all  that  soars, 

And  baser  shapes  in  trillions  swarm 

Of  higher  life  to  evolve  a  germ. 

In  all,  thro'  all,  and  over  all, 

The  embryos  struggle  at  the  call 

That  Progress  thrills  thro'  Nature's  womb, 

"For  higher  life,  yield  room  ;  more  room !  " 

When  matter  into  soul 's  resolved, 
With  her  a  higher  law  's  evolved, 


Evolution.  237 


The  Immortals  rise  beyond  the  scope 
Of  Laws  in  which  the  mortal  grope  ; 
Soul  bound  to  matter,  feels  the  pain 
Of  ceaseless  struggle  with  her  chain, 
Till  law  "Not  to  be  eaten  ;  Eat," 
In  "Live  and  let  live,"  finds  defeat. 

Then  the  old  world  of  Hatred  dies 
Beneath  a  new  creation's  skies ; 
Life's  stream  forever  upward  flows ; 
Love,  limitless  in  progress  glows  ; 
With  each  step  Evolution  gains 
Yet  fiercer  ardors  burn  his  veins, 
Until  the  dust-born  souls  transcend 
Material  limits,  and  ascend 
Thro'  Love,  to  Love's  eternal  life, 
And  blent  with  God,  aye,  aid  his  strife. 
Yet  in  his  bosom  law-bound  lie, 
In  love  they  live,  in  hate  they  die. 


Though  at  Jerusalem,  sown  with  salt, 
Sad  pity  rises  in  revolt 
Against  the  law  that  gathered  all 
Judaea  in  her  creed-built  wall, 
That  pestilence  and  famine  driven 
By  war  into  their  dreadful  haven, 
Might  force  the  mother's  cooing  mouth 
To  set  its  hunger-raging  tooth 
Gnawing  her  baby's  bones,  to  scare 
The  savage  Roman  with  her  fare. 
'Tis  vengeful  Nature  thus  englobes 
The  priest  and  faction  driven  mobs, 


238  Siva. 

And  thus  agglomerates  his  bane 
To  fall  before  progressive  Man. 
As  serpents  by  some  instinct  crawl, 
And  intertwining  form  a  ball 
Of  striking  heads,  and  writhing  tails 
Whose  horror  human  courage  pales, 
To  die  the  quicker,  as  his  blows 
Crash  thro'  his  venom-spurting  foes. 

Yet  Reason  sees,  that  Love  alone 
Is  by  their  doom,  to  mankind  shown. 
Tho'  the  whole  race  whose  creed  is  Hate, 
Who  for  their  tribe  dare  arrogate 
Superior  place  in  Nature's  scheme, 
And  as  God's  favorites,  Love  blaspheme, 
Had  vanished  from  the  world  they  curse 
With  their  insatiate,  gaping  purse. 
For  in  each  Jew,  man-hater  died, 
Who  knew  no  crime  in  fratricide. 
His  horrible,  revolting  faith, 
Hoped  the  world's  empire,  and  the  death 
Of  every  alien  to  the  creed 
Inherited  by  Abraham's  seed. 

Close-coiling  in  their  narrow  fane, 
Warming  each  other  in  their  den,     » 
But  to  the  human  race  as  cold 
As  their  curst  temple's  plated  gold, 
'Twas  loving  Justice  swept  the  nest 
Of  vipers,  who  their  hatred  hissed 
At  Human  Brotherhood,  and  flung 
Their  carcasses  o'er  earth  as  dung. 


Vishnu.  239 


The  race  has  gained,  if  barren  earth 
So  fertilized,  yields  nobler  birth. 
Aye !  if  one  loving  germ  is  born 
From  that  abhorrent  putrid  scorn  ; 
Tho'  Siva,  with  Csesarean  knife, 
Slashed  pitiless,  for  gasping  life. 

'Twas  born !  for  earth  has  seen  a  child, 

Man-grown,  yet  gentle,  trustful,  mild, 

As  when  he  cooed  to  lullaby 

Upon  his  mother's  dancing  knee  ; 

Who  lay  at  Nature's  breast  to  hear 

In  her  warm  heart  sweet  currents  stir, 

Fed  on  the  nectar  they  distilled, 

And  knew  himself  with  her  one-willed  ; 

As  Reason  saw  Love's  balsams  drip 

On  every  wound  her  kissing  lip 

Grew  moist  to  heal,  nor  cared  what  wrong 

A  stalk  had  pierced,  a  bloom  had  stung. 

Her  lesson  learned,  his  gentle  eyes 

Glanced  thro'  all  shams,  pierced  all  disguise, 

For  man  stands  naked, — in  his  skin, 

To  him  who  claims  with  Nature  kin. 

A  turgid  body,  void  of  grace, 

A  brutish  form,  and  bestial  face, 

Nature  exacts  from  life  as  price 

Of  her  debasement,  when  a  vice 

The  fool  thinks  hid,  beyond  her  ken, 

Is  blazoned  on  his  front,  that  men 

By  instinct  warned,  may  know  and  shun 

The  glutton,  drunkard,  libertine. 


240  Man  could  not  be  nearer  God. 

Nor  cloth  of  gold,  nor  thickest  frieze 

From  him  can  hide  a  soul's  disease, 

Who  reads  the  base  hieroglyph 

Vice  graves  upon  a  wicked  life, 

As  erst  Champollion  read  the  stones 

Whose  dead  tongues  told  of  vanished  thrones. 

If  groping  reason  scarce  can  err 

With  alphabet  of  Lavater, 

Shall  he  not  read  who  has  the  sense 

Of  purity  and  innocence  ? 

An  evolution  aye  refused 

When  Nature  is  by  life  abused, 

Whose  nerves  repulsion's  currents  thrill 

To  emanating  wrong,  and  chill 

At  gelid  vapors  felt  in  air, 

As  Crime's  breath  floats  on  Anger's  stare. 

Lawyer,  and  scribe,  priest,  pharisee, 

Then  felt  the  same  antipathy 

For  Nature's  pupil,  that  they  still 

To  her  close  questioner  reveal. 

Pride  shrank  before  his  quiet  eyes 

And  knew  his  own  insanities. 

Lust,  Greed,  Hypocrisy,  all  vice 

Glared  at  its  shame,  and  knew  its  price, 

And  naked,  blotched,  and  swollen  girned 

At  him  who  hated,  while  he  yearned. 

To  him  the  Temple's  barbarous  gold 

Thick-plated,  but  revealed  its  mould. 

The  gorgeous  breast-plate's  mystic  name 

To  his  clear  sight  betrayed  the  flame 

Of  avarice  in  the  griping  heart 

That  tolled  the  sacrificial  mart. 


The  birth  of  the  Socialist.  241 

The  sinner,  publican,  or  whore, 

He  saw,  with  cleaner  hands,  adore, 

Than  prototypes  of  those  who  shrill 

Curses  at  human  progress,  while 

They  counterfeit  God's  signature, 

And  peddle  passes  to  the  shore 

Of  the  Hereafter,  promising 

To  Man,  when  struck  by  Azrael's  wing, 

His  life-distorted  soul  shall  rise, 

White-robed,  and  pure,  to  Paradise, 

Escaping  Justice,  satisfied 

That  Man  may  live,  since  God  has  died. 


'Twas  born,  a  genius-kindled  soul 

To  dust-sprung  Man  revealed  his  goal ; 

For  evoluting  Nature  pressed 

Again  a  last  born  to  her  breast — 

The  child,  man-grown, — the  Socialist. 

The  billowy  multitude  lay  still 

To  hear  Love's  song  his  rapture  trill 

From  Reason's  lyre,  by  heart  attuned, 

And  knew  their  King,  by  Nature  throned. 

A  towel,  as  his  sceptre,  dried 

His  brethrens'  feet,  and  terrified 

Ignoble,  Slave-demanding  pride, 

The  source  of  human  ills  confessed, 

As  parasites  the  earth  oppressed, 

He  flung  the  cuckoo  from  the  nest, 

Where  it  devoured  the  toil-won  food 

She  garnered  for  her  starving  brood  ; 

And  in  his  empire,  all  men  fed 

On  equal  wine,  and  equal  bread. 


242        Jesus,  a  model:  a  "Christ"  inimitable. 

Priests  could  not  comprehend  the  light 
That  quenched  their  altar-fires,  nor  Might 
The  breathing  force  could  understand 
Which,  for  Love's  domination  planned. 
So  lest  his  brethren  hold  debate 
How  unweaned  Nature  emulate, 
Whose  kiss  would  crime  annihilate, 
They  shrine  a  life  in  mysteries, 
And  relegate  him  to  the  skies  ; 
Exclude  him,  who  alone  was  man 
From  dwarfed  humanity,  and  plan 
An  altar,  where  he  lies,  supine, 
A  wasted  power,  a  man  divine, 
Alms-begging  for  a  tawdry  shrine  ; 
And  imitating  men  are  awed 
By  an  inimitable  God. 

Oh!  true!  This  Love-evolving  earth, 
A  million  times  has  hailed  its  birth. — 
The  dual-sexed,  its  forceful  blood- 
Its  savage  strength,  by  milk  subdued. 
The  man  with  paps,  whose  bosom  drains 
With  brimming  glands  his  pulsing  veins ; 
Man  with  the  instincts  Nature  meant 
To  adorn  her  last  development ; 
With  woman's  heart,  and  virile  brain, 
JZarth's  Ultimate.  All  loving  man. 

Bleating  and  brave  :  the  tiger's  will 
Thro'  lamb's  eyes  softened  as  they  fill 
With  pity,  while  the  strong-nerved  Might 
Relentless  hews  its  path  to  Right. 


Thomas  Paine.  243 


Nature's  aristocrat,  whose  health 
Of  mind  and  body  is  his  wealth. 
Equal  to  him,  or  gems  or  flint, 
His  value  's  stamped  in  Nature's  mint ; 
The  pregnant  thought  his  usury, 
The  barren  creed,  his  poverty. 
Instinctive  ruler,  for  he  saw, 
While  thro'  the  labyrinths  of  law 
His  groping  fellows  have  no  thread, 
And  perish,  if  they  spurn  his  lead. 

Wherever  Man  gropes  to  the  day, 

His  clarion  voice  proclaims  the  way ; 

Tho'  rabid  loyalist  may  howl, 

Tory  shriek  ''Treason!"  bigot  scow], 

The  mass,  by  Nature's  eloquence, 

Curt-phrased,  brim-full  of   "  Common   sense,1 

Aroused  to  struggle,  set  in  van 

The  Apostle  of  the  "  Rights  of  Man  ;" 

And,  for  his  tongue  has  found  the  word 

They  waited  for,  a  jarring  herd 

Of  quarrelling  colonies  combine, 

And,  Nation  born,  proves  Paine  divine. 


Aye !  Earth  has  borne  her  millionth  son 
Womb- fitted  for  his  turf-built  throne  ; 
To  see  them  fed  on  paupers'  broth, 
Emaciate,  dying,  nursed  by  sloth. 
Has  seen  her  swaddled  king  appear, 
To  faint  in  luxury's  atmosphere, 
On  Plutus'  bread  and  Laureate's  wine, 
Abhorred  of  Nature,  peak  and  pine ; 


244  Fallen  from  their  high  estate. 


And  laughter-frightened,  puling  shrink 

From  light  flared  by  his  Reason's  link ; 

Nay !  drop  it,  and  from  out  his  dark 

Shriek  angry  hatred  of  the  spark ; 

Abjure  his  kin  to  Man,  abjure 

The  instinct  in  which  dwelt  his  power, 

And  use  his  ashy  brain  to  gloom 

His  brethren's  life  with  glory's  plume, 

Or  force  his  artist  fingers  paint 

For  adoration,  mildewed  saint. 

So  Coleridge,  Southey,  Wordsworth,  Burke, 

Of  Pautisocracy  grew  irk, 

When  age  and  power  had  chilled  the  ruth 

Stilled  in  the  brimming  breasts  of  youth. 

As  senile  limbs  worn  eye-sight  drag 

Boy's  love  to  see,  and  see  a  hag, 

Whom,  had  they  wed,  with  each  decade 

A  bloom  were  born  would  never  fade. 

A  myriad  Jesus  embryos 
The  fecund  earth  each  age  bestows, 
Bedews  her  cheeks  with  crimson  tears, 
To  see  her  instinct-strangled  heirs 
Show  atavism,  and  cast  down, 
Ambition  taught,  her  olive  crown, 
That,  bloody  laurels  may  o'erspread 
His  bald,  unsightly,  Caesar  head. 

The  child  feels  kin  and  hugs  the  lamb, 
The  man  waits  for  a  mutton-ham, 
The  child  's  a  Socialist,  O  !  why, 
As  intellect  swells,  must  instinct  die  ! 


Immaculate  Conception.  245 


Twas  born  !  for  on  that  dunghill  blooms 
A  rose  that  all  the  world  perfumes ; 
The  "Sermon  on  the  Mount,"  compiled 
By  Nature's  loving,  trusting  child, 
Still  scatters  fragrance,  spite  the  weeds 
Of  hateful  and  malarious  creeds, 
Which  hide  its  beauty,  claim  its  scent, 
Tho'  each  and  all  are  redolent 
Of  vilest  odors,  which  they  shed 
On  its  limp  leaves,  and  drooping  head ; 
As  Faith  dwarfs  Reason  to  believe 
Womb  could  be  virgin,  and  conceive, 
Till  idiot,  in  the  gloom  he  's  lost 
Of  adumbrating  Holy  Ghost, 
And  plants  a  wonder-worker  where 
A  man  once  knelt  in  hopeless  prayer  ; 
Yea  !  with  his  resurrect  body  stalks 
Across  an  earth  its  odor  shocks. 


The  highest  life  that  treads  the  soil 

Of  this  green  world  is  thinking  Toil, 

Which  blasts  the  rock,  or  delves  the  mine, 

Uproots  the  forest,  drives  the  train, 

Shapes  serving  iron,  or  speeds  the  share, 

Or  harness  fits  on  viewless  air, 

Which  matter  fills  with  mind  to  win 

Recruit  for  Labor  in  machine, 

Or  soil  persuades,  against  its  will 

His  barns  with  greater  yield,  to  fill. 

Which  feeds  the  child  with  power,  and  trains 

For  use  his  muscles  or  his  brains, 

Or  with  mind's  lever,  whirls  the  press 


246  '  Twixt  High  and  Low. 

Which  wakens  force  that  mocks  duress. 
That,  kin  to  Nature,  feels  the  thought 
Of  energy,  that  in  her  wrought 
Her  sempiternal  age,  to  hoard 
Her  vigor,  waiting  for  her  lord, 
And  lays  close  to  her  throbbing  heart, 
Love  quickened  ear,  till  she  impart 
Her  open  secret,  how  restore 
To  Man  for  use  power  from  its  ore  ; 
How  catch  Proteus  and  compel 
The  unwilling,  hiding  God  to  tell 
His  tireless  questioner  how  to  lock 
In  permanence  the  transmuting  shock, 
Envolved  in  opening  new  course 
For  changing,  but  persistent  force — 
And  teach  the  inventor  how  to  chain 
The  soul  of  Nature,  Slave  of  Man, 
Who  semi-conscious  of  her  heir, 
Is  instinct-driven  to  prepare 
The  swaddling  clothes  of  nobler  birth, 
Now  in  the  womb  of  pregnant  earth. 


The  lowest  type  of  cognate  Man, 
Is  he,  whose  scheming  selfish  brain 
Glows  like  a  furnace  in  the  flame 
Of  burning  lust  for  gold,  or  fame  ; 
Who  struts  the  earth  in  human  shape, 
With  instincts  of  the  soulless  ape, 
That  agile,  climbs  the  bearing  tree, 
Long  trained  by  patient  industry, 
And  revels  on  its  ruddy  fruit, 
While  Labor  digs  and  feeds  its  root ; 


There  is  no  Peace.  247 

Or  rat-like  gnaws  his  secret  road 
To  Nature's  wage,  in  bin  bestowed, 
And  riots  in  his  filthy  nest 
Upon  his  ill-got,  golden  feast, 
Leaving  its  owner  spoiled  and  bare 
For  all  his  toil  and  watchful  care. 

Shall  apes  that  filch,  and  rats  that  gnaw, 
Their  plunder  hold  by  creed  and  law  ? 
On  Labor's  harvest  shall  they  prowl 
Forever,  shielded  by  the  cowl, 
Proving  Society  's  undone 
If  Man  breeds  cats,  or  points  a  gun  ? 

'Twixt  them  and  Toil,  how  compromise 
The  eternal  fight  that  dates  its  rise 
When  gasping  Chaos  felt  the  might 
Of  Infinite  Love  in  flooding  light. 
That  thro'  the  universe  arrays 
Reaction's  gloom  'gainst  Progress'  blaze. 
That  rages  thro'  the  pulsing  earth 
Whose  subterranean  fires  pour  dearth 
In  lava  floods  on  fertile  plain, 
Whose  blasted  blooms  must  smile  again. 
In  which  the  stately  tree  but  falls, 
Conquered  by  parasitic  coils, 
That  in  its  mouldering  dust  may  root 
A  nobler  stem  with  richer  fruit.     , 
That  fills  the  circumambient  air 
With  shrieks  of  triumph,  sobs  of  prayer, 
As  all  defend  and  all  attack 
While  Nature  spreads  symposiac, 


248  Dii  laboribus  omnia  vendunt. 


And  laughs  to  see  the  endless  gain 
O'er  brutal  strength,  of  jelly  brain. 
Forever,  from  each  contest,  won, 
Another  struggle  is  begun, 
As  battle-cries  continuous  roll 
O'er  broad'ning  field,  the  human  soul, 
Rent,  torn  and  anguished  by  debate 
'Twixt  Creed  and  Reason,  Love  and  Hate. 

Nature  is  unit ;  endless  feud 
Between  the  evil  and  the  good, 
Between  the  upright  and  the  base, 
'Twixt  Right  and  Might  can  never  cease. 
Until  mankind  in  wisdom  frame 
The  law  that  can  Ambition  tame. 

By  what  agreement  such  foes  bind 

As  the  palled  palate  and  starved  mind, 

Augustus  could  not  breathe  if  Rome, 

Among  her  millions,  gave  a  home 

To  Ovid,  so  the  poet's  tongue 

Among  barbarians  trilled  his  song. 

So  Seneca  for  Nero  oped 

His  wrinkled  veins ;  the  slow  blood  dropped 

Reluctant,  till  a  life  escaped, 

By  love  perfumed,  by  wisdom  shaped.     ' 

So  friend-surrounded  Socrates 

Smiled,  drank  his  cup,  and  closed  his  eyes 

For  rage-ruled  Athens,  who  in  dust 

Bewailed  her  crime,  and  savage,  thrust 

To  Hades,  to  console  his  shade, 

The  demagogues  her  wrath  obeyed. 


G-enius  gets  more  kicks  than  ha'pence.        249 


So  Jesus  for  Caiaphas  felt 
The  doom  of  shame,  and  meed  of  guilt, 
While,  with  throats  still  hosanna-hoarse, 
The  mob  of  Jewry  dragged  the  curse 
Of  murdered  Love  upon  their  heads 
Still  'fyling  their  thief-breeding  beds  ; 
For  Nature  's  parricide, — the  priest — 
Poisoned  their  blood,  when  on  her  breast 
He  struck  her  child  ;  their  venomed  hearts 
Dead  to  remorse,  yet  feel  its  smarts, 
And  must  as  long  as  they  abjure 
The  gospel  that  he  preached  the  poor. 
So  Scotch  precentors  in  Dundee, 
Ravished  by  Sternhold's  psalmody, 
Scowled  Nature's  poet  from  the  street, 
Now  hallowed  by  his  staggering  feet, 
Whose  maudlin  song,  or  tavern  stave, 
Outlives  their  church,  outlasts  their  pave. 
Whose  wit  shall  "  Holy  Will"  embalm 
While  Scotland's  God  knows  how  to  damn. 
Whose  songs  will  feed  delight  till  rhyme 
Of  music  's  lost  in  Heaven's  chime. 

Before  them  famine,  with  them  fear, 
Calhoun's  ghost  thundering  in  their  rear, 
Even  now  our  swarthy  citizens 
In  headlong  haste  escape  the  dens, 
Where  Slavery  scotched,  but  waits  the  time, 
When,  coated  by  ophidian  slime, 
Enwrapped  and  crushed  in  coiling  law, 
Manhood  shall  glut  his  craving  maw. 


250  Pliilosophasters. 


Now  Denslow,  Greed's  Evangelist, 
Harangues  Philosophasters,  unhissed, 
Ore  rotundo,  quod,  dixit 
Philosophiam  iiescivit. 
Explaining  how  the  fisherman, 
Who  broke  the  box  that  Solomon 
Had  sealed  the  Genius  in,  and  saw 
His  mist  take  form  and  substance, — draw 
The  fleecy  clouds  around  his  head, 
While  earth  to  centre  felt  his  tread — 
Could  legislate  his  width  and  height 
Again  to  incantated  plight. 

To  frame  the  law  he  'd  buy  the  vote. 
An  X  apiece  he  thinks  would  do  't. 
That  Jacob  here  might  drive  a  trade 
With  hungry  Esau,  and  persuade 
His  birth-right  from  the  hairy  arms 
Whose  ballot  philosoph'  alarms, 
Perhaps  he  could  ;  to  execute  ; 
That  cost  a  Babbage  can't  compute. 


Philosophy  would  guide  a  force 

Which,  born  of  Nature,  must  have  course. 

Philosophasters  aye  augment 

By  new  restrictions,  discontent. 

They  're  damnably  extravagant. 

For  Ignorance  is  unanimous. 
When  herded  close,  'tis  credulous, 
Submissive  to  its  shepherd's  beck, 
And  proud  to  feel  upon  its  neck 


The  "Happy  Family"  251 


Its  collar,  ribbon-wrapped,  which  leads 
It,  bleating,  to  the  arid  meads, 
Where,  pastured  on  the  waste,  it  starves, 
Fenced  from  its  master's  fat  preserves. 

But,  when  credulity  's  destroyed 

In  minds  where  reason  ne'er  employed 

A  pen  or  tongue  to  teach  it  right, 

It  grows  incarnate  appetite. 

As  wolves,  unanimous,  its  pack 

One-throated  howls  upon  the  track 

Where  Wealth,  in  luxury  misspent, 

Has  left  its  wage-polluted  scent  : 

One  thought  in  each,  consumed  by  thirst. 

The  quarry  caught,  to  be  the  first 

To  feel  his  smoking  muzzle  bore, 

Blood-snorting,  to  the  victim's  core. 

Like  Barnum's  "  Happy  Family  " — fed, 

Wealth  safely  pats  its  gorgon  head, 

As  dozing  lazily  it  blinks 

Digesting,  careless  of  its  stinks. 

Then,  as  in  Rome,  the  mob's  brute  throats 

To  swallow  bread  will  vomit  votes. 

Let  Hunger  get  within  the  den, 

The  Happy  Family  acts  as  men 

Will  do  when  such  philosopher 

As  Denslow  is  their  lawgiver. 

The  anaconda  hugs  the  goat, 

The  sheep  slips  down  the  tiger's  throat, 

While  parrots  scream,  the  monkeys  pluck, 

The  lap-dog  dines  upon  the  duck, 


252  The  "Happy  Family"  hungry. 


The  cat's  paw  's  in  the  aquarium, 
By  Heaven  !  the  den  is  Christendom  ! 
The  Cage  is  Law,  the  Statutes,  bars, 
And  appetite  incessant  wars. 

To-morrow  come — no  life  is  there 
Except  the  tiger,  and  his  glare 
Burns  from  his  prison,  as  his  claws 
Tear  at  the  rattling,  creaking  bars. 
Why  even  the  boa,  with  Jew  head 
And  Sheriff's  coils,  his  rage  has  sped. 
— Don't  go  again !  his  food  's  his  foe, 
The  man  who  lived  upon  the  show. 
He  's  broke  the  legal  cage  of  dearth  ; 
Hunger  's  the  strongest  force  of  earth. 

Philosophasters  !  are  you  sage 
Forever  tinkering  at  the  cage 
Where  Man  lies  fetter-bound  ?     Are  you 
Contented  with  that  narrow  view 
That  knows  no  government  but  Force, 
The  whip  and  chain  its  sole  resource  ? 

Among  the  blind,  the  one-eyed  's  king, — 
But  why  should  acclamations  ring 
For  Denslow's  goggles,  they  can't  see 
Man's  only  hope  's  Fraternity, 
All  forms  he  's  tried  of  government, 
Love  must  have  his  experiment. 


Soap-boiler's  sons,  and  sires  of  drones, 
Grand-sires  of  beggars,  when  the  loans 


Cost  of  Schools.  253 


You've  pouched  from  Toil,  your  spendthrift  race, 

Repays  to  Man,  and  takes  its  place 

Again  at  ladder-foot,  to  climb 

Again  to  wealth,  thro'  sweat  and  grime — 

What  blue  blood  can  Chicago  boast 

Dribbling  through  brains  by  ages  massed 

In  dismal  solitude  above 

The  plain,  where  gold  is  more  than  love ; 

Where  Stocks  with  Castles  copulate, 

Engendering  peers  to  guide  the  State  ; 

That  in  earth's  breaking  dawn  you  dream 

Of  still  enforcing  Nimrod's  scheme  ; 

That  you  begin  to  count  the  cost 

Of  crime's  prevention,  and  exhaust 

Logic  to  prove  that  ignorance 

Is  not  the  worst  extravagance. 

What  cost  is  this,  which,  even  debate 

Excites  your  spleen,  ye  mushroom  great. 

'Tis  cost  of  peace,  evolved  from  strife  ; 

'Tis  cost  of  death,  subdued  by  life  ; 

'Tis  the  racked  State's  repairing  dock ; 

The  light  that  shines  on  Treason's  rock  ; 

The  hopes  of  Time,  and  Freedom's  soul 

Are  nourished  by  the  paltry  dole. 

The  family,  with  its  happy  hearth, 

The  kettle's  hum,  and  baby's  mirth, 

The  mother's  fine  economy, 

The  father's  strict  sobriety, 

The  cheerful  labor  of  the  son, 

The  daughter's  marriage-loosened  zone, 

These  are  the  things  appraised,  when  fools 

Babble  about  the  cost  of  schools. 


254  Education  cheaper  than  Ignorance. 


A  tax  that  forced  on  every  child 
Running  at  large,  unkempt,  and  wild, 
Good  schooling  and  an  honest  trade, 
Would  cost  far  less  than  this  brigade, 
Which,  gutter-fed  and  alley-  trained, 
Is  yearly  to  Crime's  army  drained. 
Less  if  the  quarrelsome  flag  that  floats 
Above  their  heads  were  shaped  as  coats, 
To  shield  and  warm  the  frozen  imp 
Who'll  for  his  scrawny  sister  pimp, 
In  hope  to  see,  before  him  thrown 
From  lecher's  hand  a  half-picked  bone ; 
Less  if  the  spoon  of  the  dry  nurse 
Replaced  the  club  of  police  force, 
And  Order's  stalwart  champion  quelled 
The  Cockatrice  ere  it  unshelled. 


Life  's  education.     All  his  days 

Man  goes  to  school,  and  wealth  defrays 

Despite  his  will,  the  cost  to  rear 

A  burglar,  or  an  engineer. 

Each  child  is  a  donation  given 

To  earth  to  rear  for  profit ;  Heaven 

Bestows  the  boon,  and  Heaven  exacts 

With  usury,  if  refused,  the  tax  ; 

And  children  grown  to  pillagers 

Are  but  collecting  Heaven's  arrears. 

Each  child  's  a  field,  whose  golden  grain 

Will  ripen  under  sun  and  rain  ; 

If  education  but  manure 

The  soil,  behold,  the  harvest  's  sure. 


Baal  worship.  255 

Do  n't  cultivate, — the  soil  must  yield, 
Fungi  and  weeds  exhaust  the  field, 
No  tax  will  make  it  fertile  then 
Till  deluged  by  the  blood  of  men. 

The  child  's  the  State's.     No  father  dare 

Claim  title  to  his  law-made  heir. 

Father  may  toil,  and  mother  save, 

The  State  can  draft,— he  heirs  a  grave. 

All  men  have  interest  in  each 

Beyond  the  family ;  all  must  teach. — 

All  do. — Each  generation  feels 

Its  predecessor's  scars  and  weals. 

If  it  can  understand  their  cause, 

That  's  progress.     If  it  can't,  old  laws 

Still  torture,  and  it  feels  in  turn 

The  same  weals  pain,  the  same  scars  burn. 

Now,  as  of  old,  the  Son,  thro'  fire 
Must  pass  if  governed  by  his  Sire. 
He  must  outgrow  his  narrow  creed, 
Must  spurn  his  gospel,  tear  his  deed ; 
For  Nature  of  an  outrage  'plains, 
Wherever  skulls  with  smaller  brains 
Than  those  of  their  progenitors 
Are  worn  by  sons  of  peers  or  boors. 


O !  impious,  wasteful  Avarice  ! 
Your  thin  lips  haggle  at  the  price 
Of  education,  tho'  the  dole 


256  How  Pride  gets  a  fall. 


That  law  awarded  Common-School, 
Lifted  your  flag  from  out  the  dust, 
And  stamps  your  coin  "  In  God  we  trust "  ! 
In  bounty-jumpers  find  your  troops, 
When  Freedom  next  with  Serfdom  copes,  ' 
If  breeding  Man  's  too  great  expense, 
If  schooling  is  extravagance. 

Bewail  Alaric's  plundered  Rome. — 
You,  Miser !  breed  your  Huns  at  home. 
Hark  !    now  their  widening  columns  tramp, 
Till  the  whole  country  is  a  camp, 
And  every  night,  War's  reddened  sky 
Lights  the  foot-prints  of  Anarchy. 

You,  straddling  an  end  owned  by  rank, 
Upon  this  "  Social  System's"  plank, 
Soar  upward  on  its  grim  see-saw. 

Yet  cannot  see  that  Nature's  law 

i 

Drops  poor  men  just  as  low  in  mire 
As  you  're  high  balanced  in  the  air, 
You  think  your  seat  secure,  and  scoff 
Their  rights:  What  if  they  all  get  off? 


In  Rome  they  did.     Jove  I  how  you  begged, 

When  robbed  and  angry  Labor  leagued, 

Set  wife  and  child  upon  his  cart 

And  fled  the  debtor-slaving  mart. 

What  was  the  palace  worth  to  keep, 

If  he  who  owned  it  had  to  sweep  ? 

The  acres,  if  patrician  hands 

Must  hold  the  plow  and  turn  the  lands  ? 


The  Exodus — Hegira.  257 

Repentance  earned  existence  when 

Placated  slaves  returned  as  men. 

All  debts  she  cancelled  !     Tribune  sneered, 

And  lo !  a  statute  disappeared. 

With  callous  hands  and  feet  unshod, 

Dictator  in  her  forum  stood, 

And  Cincinnatus'  eye  could  scan 

The  field  as  large  that  fed  a  man. 

Labor  was  Master,  till  Greed  trained 

A  mob,  and  new  dominion  gained. 

Marius  then  !  and  Sylla  !  what 

Better  than  plebs',  patricians'  lot? 


Now  Capital  makes  piteous  mouth, 
As  Labor  skurries  from  the  South, 
For  every  inch  of  land  that  grew 
A  crop,  stirred  by  his  dragging  hoe, 
Is  worthless  as  it  was  when  Penn's 
Trunk -full  of  beads  was  recompense 
For  all  the  leagues  that  Greed  could  ask, 
When  profit  wore  a  Quaker's  mask. 

Ah  !  Southern  Statesmen,  it  appears 
Your  whites  can't  all  be  brigadiers. 
That  cause  is  palpable.     Discuss 
Mode  to  remeed  the  Exodus, 
Else  'tis  Hegira.     They'll  return— 
Despite  all  law,  the  men  who  earn 
Must  over  sloth  and  folly  rule, 
When  they  have  passed  a  term  at  school. 
The  teacher's  rod  is  heavy, — well, — 
The  sooner  they  will  learn  to  spell ! 


258  Victory  !  or  Death  ! 


Your  children,  beggared  by  your  pride, 
Will  yet  in  Negro  cabins  hide. 
Be  wise,  a  Cincinnatus'  farm 
For  every  serf 's  the  only  charm 
Can  keep  him  quiet  on  the  plank, 
Where  his  abasement  makes  your  rank ; 
Come  down  a  little  ;  let  him  rise  ; 
A  brevet  's  no  great  sacrifice  ; 
Let  brigadiers  be  colonels,  then 
Let  serfs  be  privates  and  be  men. 
You  can't ;  then  tumble, — reason  deaf, 
For,  by  the  Gods,  they  're  getting  off. 


Ah  !  Power  cannot  be  quiet.     Why  ? 
Because  it  must  or  grow  or  die. 
He  cannot  on  his  limits  tread 
Till  cancer  roots  learn  not  to  spread. 
Until  the  serpent's  poisoned  gland 
Supplies  no  death  to  hate's  demand. 
And  Labor,  lord  of  earth,  can't  reign 
Till  Love  prevades  his  whole  domain. 

But  fools  for  foes  plait  olive  wreath, 
Whose  war  cry  's  "  Victory  or  death  !  " 
Freedom  is  won  by  force  alone. 
No  moral  power  upsets  a  throne 
Which  usury  has  based  and  built 
On  legal  fraud  and  lawful  guilt. 
Even  when  the  thing  is  red  with  rust 
To  shove  it  over,  makes  a  dust 
Strangling  the  lever's  rage,  applied 
To  rend  its  frayed,  decaying  pride. 


Samson's  riddle.  259 


A  white  flag  but  protects  a  spy, 

For  God  has  sworn  that  Greed  must  die  ; 

Out  of  the  eater  comes  forth  meat, 

Out  of  the  strong-  comes  forth  the  sweet. 

Crimson  's  the  color  Nature  owns 

As  Freedom's  sun  on  mankind  dawns, 

All  debts  are  paid  by  Death.     Remorse 

Ne'er  shuddered  at  a  miser's  corse. 


Aye  !  Man  himself  must  sacrifice, 
From  death  alone  new  life  can  rise, 
Man-haters  must  find  earth  their  tomb, 
Ere  the  man-lover  opes  her  womb. 
Destruction's  red  and  reckless  hand 
Must  cast  o'er  Mammon  governed  land 
The  living  seeds,  in  blood-fed  soil, 
Whence  springs  the  enfranchisement  of  Toil. 
For  Mammon's  law,  like  Persia's,  can 
But  be  repealed  in  blood  of  Man. 
Carnage  must  slake  his  rage-parched  throat, 
And  o'er  unnumbered  corses  gloat, 
Gaunt  Famine's  horny  eye  must  glare 
O'er  fields  nntilled,  and  pastures  bare, 
And  Fire's  hot  tongues  must  lick  the  walls 
Whence  Mammon's  prayers,  Muezzin  bawls, 
Ere  a  fraternal  race  can  laugh 
As  Freedom  writes  his  epitaph. 


But  for  abuses  Power  exists  ; 
But  by  abuses  Power  resists 
The  life  that  progress  would  impart, 
Reaching  the  reason  thro'  the  heart. 


260  Liberty — its  natural  limits. 

He,  with  a  lying  logic,  shields 

His  wasting  theft  of  Labor's  fields,  * 

And  fortifies  his  brazen  guilt, 

By  economic  system  built 

And  based  on  crime,  its  corner  stone. 

Crime  by  whose  deed,  the  few  can  own 

What  God  gave  all,  what  all  must  have, 

Or  love  must  die  in  Man,  the  slave, 

As  love  has  died  in  him  whose  fraud 

Contests  the  title  of  his  God. 

The  moral  progress  of  the  race 
Consists  in  growing  power  to  trace 
The  laws  of  conduct,  and  to  teach 
How  all  men  should  behave  to  each  ; 
— To  know  that  each  man's  liberty 
To  enjoy  his  likes,  Society 
Can  claim  no  right  to  contravene, 
Save  where  the  effect  is  plainly  seen 
Upon  another  life  to  trend, 
Whose  equal  right  it  must  defend. 

If  any  portion  of  the  earth 

Is  held  by  righteous  deed ;  if  birth 

Can  give  to  one  exclusive  deed ; 

Such  law  must  work  another's  shame  ; 

For  if  Earth's  surface  is  controlled 

By  some,  all  others  may  be  told, 

With  equity,  that  in  a  world 

They  're  born,  from  which  they  should  be  hurled 

Out  into  space,  as  trespassers 

On  those  whose  title  law  prefers. 


The  doctrines  of  devils.      ,  261 

Political  Economy 
*Which  in  "Demand  begets  Supply," 
The  "Axiom"  finds  which  markets  Man, 
And  puts  a  price  on  brawn  and  brain, 
Is  natural  growth  of  "Private  Right," 
A  problem  solved  in  Egypt's  blight, 
By  Joseph  in  that  dreary  time, 
When  first  the  Jew  taught  Pharaoh  crime  ; 
Then  her  heaped  wealth,  by  taxes  made, 
For  safety  and  protection  paid, 
Like  "Charter  Oak"  insurance  funds, 
Clutched  by  administering  hands, 
Became  his  private  property, 
Who,  of  the  coffer,  held  the  key, 
And,  by  chaste  Joseph's  cunning  greed 
Bought  Labor's  tyrant  of  his  need. 

'Twas  then  demand  begat  supply, 
Hunger  must  part  with  land  or  die, 
That  sold,  intruder  he  became, 
And  trespasser  on  Pharaoh's  "  claim." 
The  landless  must  beget  a  slave, 
And  rent,  at  market  price,  a  grave. 

Still  the  broad  Nile  brought  annual  flood 
To  Toil  of  fertilizing  mud, 
Nor  recked  who  harvested  his  gift, 
Who  was  enriched,  or  who  bereft, 
Tho'  homeless  Labor's  shivering  ranks 
Prayed,  cursed,  and  died  upon  his  banks. 
For  Nature's  God  cares  naught  for  pelf, 
Egypt  must  slave,  or  right  herself. 


262  Demand  and  Supply. 

Again  demand  begat  supply, 
For  Man  revolts  in  slavery, 
Tyrants  need  priests  who  teach  a  Hell 
To  punish  slaves,  who  dare  rebel. 
With  secrecy,  and  sorcery, 
With  incense  muttered  mystery, 
With  awe  inspiring  tonsured  skulls, 
With  Gods  of  crocodiles  and  bulls, 
With  sound-refracting  oracles, 
They  came,  and  happy  Pharaoh  saw 
Congeeing  serfs  submit  to  law. 

Again  demand  begat  supply 

For  Pharaoh  himself  must  die, 

His  corse,  mal-odorous  must  be  hid, 

So  Toil  supplied  a  p}^ramid 

That  from  its  top,  his  perching  soul 

Might  view  the  lands  of  his  control, 

Until  his  mummy's  wakened  brain 

Felt  his  glad  spirit  stir  again. 

His  slaves,  by  their  dull  instincts  doomed 

To  cling  to  life,  by  millions  swarmed 

To  rear  fit  tomb  for  rotting  gold, 

The  product  of  their  toils — behold  ! 

A  monstrous  quarry  on  the  ground, 

An  excavation  where  't  was  found, 

The  slaves  that  reared  these  sepulchres 
Of  wasted  Labor,  left  as  heirs 
A  race  with  aspirations  crushed, 
Deca}ang  thro'  long  centuries,  cursed 
By  every  form  of  infinite  wrong 


Labor  vincit  omnia.  263 


The  weak  can  suffer  from  the  strong, 
Beyond  the  reach  of  progress,  where 
Life  has  no  hope,  death  no  despair. 


If  Labor  could  have  stood  upon 

The  boundless  wealth  from  earth  he  won  ; 

Had  it  been  used  as  God  designed 

To  strengthen  muscle,  broaden  mind  ; 

Who  can  set  limits  to  his  gain, 

In  power  of  body,  force  of  brain. 

He  might  within  his  heart  enthrall 

The  full  vitality  of  soul, 

And  at  the  fount  of  ceaseless  growth 

Might  quaff  the  stream  of  endless  youth. 

Tongue  has  no  language  can  unfold 

The  glories  of  a  conquered  world       ^ 

With  wisdom  and  invention  fraught, 

Obedient  to  human  thought. 


But  if,  to-day,  on  earth  Man  stood 
Naked,  unsheltered,  wanting  food, 
And  all  the  glories  of  all  lands 
Were  shrouded  in  the  drifting  sands, 
A  generation  could  replace 
All  wealth  existent  on  her  face, 
Which  for  ten  thousand  years  of  pain 
Rewards  his  toil,  to  prove  his  bane. 
And  he,  half-fed,  a  shivering  wretch, 
Has  not  vitality  to  reach 
Even  half  the  years  of  natural  life ; 
So  torn  and  wounded  in  the  strife 
He  wages  for  existence,  while 


264  Sisyphus  in  overalls. 

•    - 

With  instincts  crushed,  he  grows  more  vile, 
For  greed  has  poisoned  at  their  source 
The  springs  of  Nature's  vital  force. 

Of  all  the  food  the  waters  yield, 
Of  all  the  harvests  of  the  field, 
He  has  not  year's  supply  in  store 
To  keep  gaunt  famine  from  his  door. 
Grim  Power  still  bulletins  his  joy, 
As  heroes,  uniformed,  destroy 
The  customers  who  're  clothed  and  fed 
By  Labor's  webs  and  Labor's  bread — 
The  cabins  where  he  weakling  cowers, 
And  worn  and  wasted,  life  endures, 
While  sleepless  Usury  counts  her  gains, 
And  aggregates  what  War  disdains. 

Of  all  Toil's  earnings  this  shred  shows 
For  myriad  years  of  myriad  woes, 
And  this,  not  his,  it  but  gives  force 
To  shame,  by  competition's  curse. 
To  cumulated  wealth  bestows 
New  riches,  earned  by  what  it  owes ; 
That  Capital  may  keep  his  dross 
Regardless  of  his  neighbor's  loss, 
While  Toilers  his  just  tax  endure, 
And  poor  men  must  support  the  poor. 

Supplies  exist,  but  for  demand, 

So  cries  the  Sage,  who  owns  the  land. 

And  proves  it  by  their  misery  t 

Who  starve  when  lacking  gold  to  buy. 


Deadheads — Conductors.  265 

» 

'  Tis  false.     Supply  is  limited 

But  by  the  cost  of  toil  and  seed. 

So  Nature, — Law  gives  increment 

To  cost,  by  every  dollar  spent 

To  buy  or  hire  a  field  to  till, 

To  place  a  house,  or  seat  a  mill ; 

Destroys  the  equilibriums 

'Twixt  Toil  that  reaps,  Toil  that  consumes, 

Creates,  to  God's  astonishment, 

A  class  of  men  who  live  on  rent, 

Which  from  both  sides  its  "profit"  cheats, 

From  what  Toil  earns,  and  what  he  eats, 

Who  claim  free  rides  around  the  sun 

Upon  a  planet  that  they  own  ; 

Aye!  cjaim  to  guide  its  'wildered  course 

Through  frightened  skies,  while  discord  hoarse 

Screams  thro'  the  music  of  the  spheres 

The  burden  of  earth's  maudlin  tears. 

This  wagon's  creaking  neer  will  cease 
While  its  fifth  wheel  gets  all  the  grease. 
For  all  contention  has  one  source 
All  struggle  is  'twixt  love  and  force, 
'Twixt  rights  of  Man,  and  claims  of  Kings, 
Earth  with  perpetual  discord  rings. 

O !  'Tis  demand  begets  supply, — 
Demand  of  Love  is  ecstacy  ; 
Of  all  Ambition,  tyranny  ; 
Of  Nature,  pure  democracy ; 
Of  praying  Faith,  Theocracy  ; 
Of  Reason,  Pantisocracy. 
18 


266  Agrarian  Laws  demanded. 

'Tis  Axiom  !   Of  Private  Right 
The  Upas  grows,  its  soil  to  blight, 
To  spread  Miasma  thro'  the  air, 
To  prove  that  Hate  demands  Despair, 
While  bony  eyeless  sockets  glare 
At  their  festooned,  proud  murderer. 


Nature  is  Unit, — the  same  root 
Bears  want  and  gluttony  its  fruit. 
There  !  Brothers  !  let  your  axes  fall, 
And  hew  the  landlord  from  the  soil ; 
Uproot  him  here,  before  his  state 
By  sufferance  has  grown  so  great, 
That  when  demand  begets  supply 
Of  sheep  or  cattle,  Man  must  die. 

By  England's  law  your  lands  are  held 

The  absolute  fee  is  bought  and  sold, 

Here  in  the  landlord's  bosom  lurks 

The  soul  of  England's  landed  sharks ; 

Your  judges  precedents  revere 

Of  men  who  crawled  to  office  there 

By  life-long  pandering  to  caste, 

Which   there  all  land  and  wealth  has  massed ; 

Her  crimes  your  coming  woes  foretell, 

Her  system  hence  you  must  expel ; 

Aid  Nature  on  her  painful  road 

Exalt  the  base,  subdue  the  proud, 

And  force  equality  on  Fate, 

Till  he  can  make  nor  low  nor  great ; 

Revolt !  or  pass  from  land  exiled, 

A  craven's  name  to  pauper  child. 


Shylock  ats  Antonio — reversed.  26' 


On  private  right,  see  Shylock  stand, 

To  claim  the  forfeit  in  his  bond. 

Your  courts  the  "  the  pound  of  flesh  "   concede 

And  consequence  find  in  the  deed. 

The  "pound"  reads,  "more  or  less"  in  law 

When  chancery  cures  the  contract's  flaw. 

The  right  to  cut,  the  blood  condones, 

Each  has  all  power  o'er  what  he  owns. 

He  has !  and  Shylock's  justice  frets 
To  see  Man  saddle  gold  with  debts ; 
To  numerous  asylums  debt, 
To  deaf,  dumb,  blind,  and  idiot. 
Debt  of  expense  the  insane  to  rule 
Debt  of  the  poor-house,  debt  of  school, 
— Ah!  that  debt  grinds,  and  Mammon  sets 
Your  untaught  children  in  the  streets, 
And  steals  their  funds  to  educate 
The  coming  masters  of  the  State —  . 
For  in  each  debt,  he  sees,  confest 
An  egg  in  Restitution's  nest 
Slowly  but  surely  hatching  brood, 
Which  he  would  addle  if  he  could. 

For  Mammon  feels  in  all  these  claims, 

Your  vote  by  law  extorting  alms, 

And  starves  your  schools,  your  best  defence 

'Gainst  his  ally,  your  Ignorance. 

Let  him  kill  them,  and  trespass  boards 

Will  warn  from  earth  the  unflanneled  hordes 

Who  spring  from  Labor's  straw  to  stand 

"  Supply  for  which  there  's  no  demand," 


268  Surplus  souls  ! 


Trespassing  tramps  upon  his  land 

— [Even  now  if  they  dare  ask  for  bread 

He  points  the  jail,  where  crime  is  fed,]  — 

And  legislation  will  approve, 

As  Mai  thus  howls  the  crime  of  Love  ! 


England  no  manhood  suffrage  knows, 
Mammon  on  Labor  there  bestows 
The  murderous  chartered  burial  club, 
Whose  shillings  sooth  the  mother's  sob, 
While  poor-house  guardians  gladly  meet 
The  starved  babe's  corse  out  buying  meat. 


Aye  !  axiom  'tis,  if  Private  Right 

By  gold  and  lands  his  pains  requite, 

Who  as  a  human  spider  plies 

His  web,  to  catch  his  human  flies. 

If  Egoism  is  the  end 

To  which  earth's  endless  struggles  tend, 

If  sharks  and  tigers  generate 

In  soulless  law,  deep  framed  in  hate, 

Show  Man  his  limits,  and  his  hope 

Falls  in  a  void,  beyond  their  scope, 

Man  is  but  animated  clod, 

The  Universe  has  wed  no  God. 

!Tis  axiom,  and  with  fiends  we  dwell, 

Where  crime  is  legal,  there  is  Hell. 

Ah !  No.  Tis  false,  God  lives  and  loves, 
Still  o'er  the  waste  his  spirit  moves, 
And  will  till  Man  discerns  the  lie 
And  answers,  "  Need  begets  supply!" 


Doctrines  of  Angels.  269 


Supply  that  knows  no  limit  till 
The  granaries  of  the  earth  are  full ; 
Supply  that  knows  no  limit  till 
Grim  winter  no  man's  limbs  can  chill ; 
No  limit  while  the  world  complains 
Of  gnawing  stomachs,  starving  brains. 

Love  rules,  where  "  Need  begets  Supply." 
There  Famine  needs  no  purse  to  buy 
Salvation.     Shall  the  drowning  boor 
Guggle  his  offer  to  the  shore, 
And  from  the  trader  on  the  bank 
Get  quoted  price  of  deal  and  plank 
Before,  marked  C.  O.  D.,  the  wave 
Floats  rescue  from  his  watery  grave. 

That  's  the  "  demand  "  that  Mammon  knows 

That  's  the  "  supply  "  his  hand  bestows. 

So  purseless  Ireland  found,  and  lay 

For  awful  years  his  helpless  prey, 

While  Famine  on  her  paupers  fed, 

Whose  skeletons  new  paupers  bred. 

That  's  Mammon's  mercy  ;  she  obeyed 

What  Statesmen  call  the  "  Laws  of  Trade," 

And  Ireland,  moneyless,  saw  grain 

44  Surplus  production  !"  load  his  wain, 

To  drag  her  scanty,  rotting  crops 

For  profit  to  his  English  shops, 

On  highways  thonged  with  creaking  carts, 

Trailing  waste  Labor  to  the  marts 

Where  greasy  priests  dealt  in  their  wares 

Of  mumbled  purgatorial  prayers, 


270     Witholding  more  than  is  meet  tendeth  to  poverty. 


And  prated,  in  fat-muffled  tones, 
Over  the  staring  fleshless  bones, 
How  'tis  Man's  duty,  in  the  state 
In  which  he's  born,  to  ruminate 
In  dull  content,  and  reverence 
Of  partial  God's  omnipotence. 


Now  drouth-swept  China  and  Brazil 
Against  the  infernal  law  appeal, 
While  we,  with  granaries  full,  deny 
A  measure  to  their  misery. 

Brazil  and  China  lacking  gold — 

A  million  farmers  here  have  sold 

Their  harvests  at  far  less  than  cost, 

Which  now,  in  elevators,  massed 

Must  lie,  till  Mammon  "  profit  "  sees 

Feeding  Brazilians  or  Chinese. 

Just  Heaven !  and  why  not  feed  them  now, 

And  pay  ourselves  the  gladdened  plow 

The  wage  it  earned  by  patient  toil 

Upon  a  Heaven-watered  soil ; 

Shall  it  in  furrow  rest  appalled, 

The  markets  of  the  world  forestalled. 

In  their  next  year  of  plenitude, 

The  rescued  Nations'  gratitude 

With  thanks  and  love  would  reimburse 

Our  loan,  and  the  wide  universe 

Would  bless  the  State  that  disobeyed, 

For  Jesus'  law,  the  "  Laws  of  Trade." 

And  Commerce,  won  from  conquered  hearts, 


'  T  is  more  blessed  to  give  than  to  receive.       271 


Would  pour  its  riches  thro'  our  marts, 
Needing  nor  subsidy  nor  grant, 
To  insure  its  quick  development. 

Oh  !  for  a  statesman  that  dare  sit 

And  learn  law  at  the  Child-man's  feet ; 

Oh  !  for  a  statesman  that  dare  prove 

Th'  illimitable  might  of  Love, 

For  if  one  rill  escaped  the  brim 

Of  Mammon's  dam  all  earth  would  swim. 

Ah  !  was  it  powder  that  they  asked, 

How  would  our  factories  be  tasked 

To  aid  Death's  angel,  and  incite 

His  pinions  to  a  wider  flight. 

Mammon  would  grasp,  at  proper  "  shave  " 

The  loan  required  to  dig  a  grave, 

And  rear  a  stately  monument, 

Gilded  with  glory,  for  per-cent. 

But  nation  loaning  nation  life ! 

Man  aiding  man  in  Nature's  strife  ! 

And  granting  by  the  loan  a  boon 

To  struggling  Labor,  that  's  Commune  ! 


'Tis  not  Demand  begets  Supply  ; 

It  is  the  voice  of  Deit}^, 

Which  since  his  cycle  first  began, 

Evokes  creative  force  in  Man, 

'Tis  correlated  Love  demands 

For  need  the  product  of  his  hands. 

And  Private  Right,  based  on  the  thought 


272      Wealth  and  poverty — Cause  and  consequence. 

That  each  but  for  himself  has  wrought, 

Cannot  exist  on  cheaper  food 

Of  Universal  Brotherhood : 

But  with  the  tongues  of  nightingales, 

And  peacocks'  brains  his  palate  palls. 

The  purging  glutton  daily  eats 

The  value  of  the  healthful  meats 

Of  scores  on  scores  who  daily  fast, 

To  add  a  cate  to  his  repast. 

While  he  by  "Laws  of  Trade''  ordains 

Labor  to  mix  his  hand-ground  grains 

As  erst  Ezekiel,  and  quell 

His  appetite  with  ordure's  smell. 

In  every  idle  man  behold 
His  brother,  somewhere,  hungry,  cold. 
In  every  idle  woman,  see 
Her  sister  doomed  to  infamy. 
Still  rolls  the  world  in  Mammon's  rut, 
Where  the  Cathedral  shades  the  hut. 
Where  God  is  warm  and  men  are  cold, 
The  God  that  's  warm  is  God  of  Gold. 
Where  wealth  in  palaces  is  spilt, 
There  Private  Right  is  public  guilt. 
For  rich  men  are  but  stewards  of  wealth 
Whose  primal  use  is  public  health. 

If  that  requires  it,  they  must  yield 

Each  brimming  coffer,  high-fenced  field. 

If  that  requires  it,  schools  must  tax 

The  low-necked  silks  from  Madames'  backs. 


Demand  of  Progress— Abolition  of  "Profit"     273 

If  that  requires  it,  Shylock's  law 

Must  give  no  longer  Courts  employ. 

If  that  requires  it,  Pharaoh's  grain 

Hunger  must,  free  of  cost,  obtain. 

If  that  requires  it,  Pharaohs  here 

Must  cease  their  pyramids  to  rear. 

If  that  requires  it,  Brigadier 

Must  cease  to  plot  for  Auctioneer, 

Aye,  even  the  "  Charter  Oak  "  must  draw 

Its  check,  unsheltered  by  the  law. 

If  that  requires  it,  the  machines 
Of  factories  and  the  lord's  desmesnes 
Shall  see  the  working  men  divide 
The  "profits"  now  absorbed  by  pride. 
Railroads  shall  only  earn  repair, 
Grant  no  free  pass  and  no  half-fare. 
And  cheapened  freight  shall  dearth  defy, 
'Till  no  man  hungers  'neath  our  sky. 
The  "means  of  life  "  that  men  invent, 
The   "means  of  life"  that  God  has  lent, 
Shall,  progress  aiding,  recreate 
A  world  of  Love,  from  world  of  Hate. 

No  Probus  talks,  in  dizzy  dream 
Looking  from  tower  to  see  the  gleam 
Of  horrid  pikes  rush  at  his  breast, 
Who  lone  on  earth  his  hope  confessed. 

This  is  the  soldiery's  stern  debate, 

The  army  now  is  educate, 

And  now  the  legionaries  scheme 


274       Earth's  OTiaos  moans  and  shrieks  for  light. 


Beyond,  above  the  Cesar's  dream. 
And,  tired  of  slaughter,  seek  his  den  : — 
For  now  'tis  "  profit  "  slaughters  men — 
And  health,  nay,  life  itself,  demands 
His  extirpation  from  free  lands. 


And  that  they  do,  let  Stewart's  bones 
Whose  theft  for  gain  his  life  atones, 
Rattling  attest,  as  earth  they  roam, 
Still  seeking  their  mausoleum. 
And  that  it  does  each  tramp  declares, 
Who  his  hard  lot  with  Jesus  shares. 
The  mould  that  grows  when  engines  rest 
As  scant  demands  new  price  adjust. 
And  that  it  does,  each  Poor  House  calls, 
As  age  and  vice  infest  its  walls  ; 
While  every  jail  to  that  truth  swears, 
As  want  and  crime  peep  through  its  bars, 
Aye  !  So  it  does,  each  brothel  .}Tells 
Where  full-fed  lust  in  luxury  dwells, 
Bed-money  halving  as  the  price 
Of  th'  awful  life  of  death  in  vice, 
Where  girls  their  bodies  rent  for  gold 
For  which  his  soul  the  renter  sold ; 
'Tis  true  !  'tis  true  !  each  gamin  squeaks, 
As  in  the  gutters,  "stubs"  he  seeks. 
True,  creaks  the  gallows  as  the  priest 
Defiles  its  rope,  and  taints  its  guest. 
Aye  !    all  earth's  moral  Chaos  blends 
Accusing  cry,  and  Heaven  attends. 
Lame,  poor,  and  abject,  the  gods  rave 
And  earth  's  in  turmoil  for  the  slave. 


Pride  builds  for  Destruction.  275 


War,  nursed,  and  fed  at  every  hearth, 
When  adolescent   grown,  in  mirth 
Will  fire  the  roof-tree  of  his  house, 
And  on  its  ashen  dust  carouse. 
'  When  pity's  tears  God's  eyes  o'erflow, 
And  hiss  within  this  hell  of  wo, 
It  belches  lurid  streams  of  hate 
And  pours  on  Greed  his  self-earned  fate. 

As  Slaves,  unfit  for  Freedom,  saw 

Their  masters  more  unfit  for  law. 

For  slavery  aye  breeds  a  race, 

Whose  unchecked  passions,  laws  efface. 

So  Private  Right  with  curse  is  fraught, 

Which  must  his  heart  who  claims  it,  rot. 

And  the  fermenting  heat,  allied 

To  stench,  will  generate  mushroom  Pride, 

Pride  for  destruction  builds.     On  sand 
His  fretted  gargoyled  arches  stand ; 
Keystoned  by  interest,  by  cabal 
Intrigue  and  treachery  they  fall ; 
As  Time,  with  every  tide  sweeps  down 
A  clumsy  throne,  or  rusty  crown, 
Beside  his  current,  stands  in  awe, 
The  parrot  pulpit,  and  of  law 
Outraged,  and  right  abused,  declaims 
To  Sunday  schools  and  fluttered  dames, 
And  moralizing,  screams  that  Man 
Cannot  substantial  building  plan, 
Pointing  the  debris  of  his  foe, 
His  incapacity  to  show. 


276  Chinese  mind  shaping. 

Pride  legislates  but  for  himself, 
He  knows  no  world  beyond  his  pelf. 
Nature,  mis-shaped,  at  his  behest 
Can  feel  no  ease  and  know  no  rest, 
Until  his  bonds  she  breaks,  and  frees 
Her  cramped  limbs  from  his  liveries. 

He  on  throne  Demiurgic  sits. 
And  Man  to  bed  Procustean  fits  ; 
Who  shorn,  or  stretched,  alike  rebels, 
If  to  the  brute  he  shrinks,  or  swells 
Beyond  the  limits  Pride  would  find 
For  his  persistent  growing  mind. 


Thus  valiant  Germany,  knit  by  wars, 
Her  bosom  seamed  with  Labor's  scars, 
Shows  now  as  deep  and  fell  a  wound 
As  she  beneath  an  Alva  moaned  ; 
As  that  which  desolated  France, 
By  the  revoked  edict  of  Nantes. 

Now,  in  dead  ultramontane  force, 
Her  stubborn  Bismarck  finds  resource, 
In  his  insane  attempt  to  fill 
Man's  myriad  brain  with  unit  will. 
Free  speech  in  Freemen  to  destroy, 
And  mental  serf  shape  German  boy, 
As  Chinese  dwarf,  in  earthen  pot 
Is  to  deformed  perfection  brought. 

Pastor  and  priest  divide  control, 
With  Herr  Justizrath  of  the  school. 


Calvary's  eclipse  still  glooms  the  earth.        277 

Their  jarring  interests  combine, — 
The  sun  of  science  must  not  shine, 
Lest  children  thriving  in  its  light, 
Should  grow  to  hate  the  Kaiser's  might, 
And  drive  the  hoary  perjurer 
From  his  grim  bone-surrounded  lair, 
As  every  German  youth,  from  home 
And  friendship  torn,  must  meet  his  doom, 
Must  grow  in  brutishness,  by  drill 
Taught  how  to  pipe-clay,  how  to  kill. 


On  you  to-day  penumbra  falls 

Of  Calvary's  gloom,  as  Bismarck  bawls 

His  hate  of  Darwin  and  his  dread 

Lest  Love  and  Socialism  spread. 

The  "Times"  and  "Tribune"  joined  as  one 

Become  a  Bismarck  telephone, 

While  Joe  Medill,  whose  deafened  ear 

God's  voice  in  Nature  cannot  hear, 

And  Story,  on  whose  crested  pride, 

God's  love  would  waste  a  flooding  tide, 

Meet  with  a  jibe,  greet  with  a  sneer, 

The  patriot's  wrath  and  exile's  tear 

And  praise  his  ukase,  smothering  thought, 

Which  for  the  creed  that  Jesus  taught, 

Dooms  to  sad  exile,  or  the  cell, 

Who  loves  his  fellow-man  too  well, 

From  his  swelled  heart  to  hush  the  cry, 

Echoed  from  Calvary's  agony. 


Ah  !  well. — The  exiled  Huguenot 
A  grim  revenge  on  Louis  wrought ; 


278  L'  etat — c'  est  moil 

When  Europe,  balanced,  felt  their  weight 

Upon  the  scale,  he  met  his  fate. 

The  universal  Empire  fell 

To  ruin,  for  their  forces  swell 

The  hosts  of  William.     Tiger  Heart 

Broke  with  its  long  corroding  smart. 

Stripped  of  his  conquests,  stripped  of  Fame, 

Old  age  despised,  and  death  in  shame, 

A  naked,  robbed,  dishonored  corse, 

Were  his  reward  who  ruled  by  force. 

From  Notre  Dame's  high  campaniles 
Came  faint  to  earth  their  solemn  peals, 
As  sullen  roared,  bells  swinging  slow 
And  clam'rous  clashed  their  clang'rous  woe, 
While  tinkling  laughter  reigned  below. 
And  ribald  mirth  upon  its  path 
Followed  the  hearse  with  sneering  teeth. 
A  Funeral  parade,  prolonged, 
As  dancers  on  its  highway  thronged, 
Whose  taniborines  and  cymbals  drown 
The  "De  Profundis"  hollow  moan, 
Was  his  reward  who,  tireless,  sought 
By  dragonnades  to  govern  thought, 
Who  said,  "  The  State  and  I,  are  one. 
The  State  exists  but  in  the  throne." 

No  dungeon  can  repress,  no  chain 
Can  bind  God's  Spirit  in  Man's  brain. 
Tyrants  their  day  may  domineer, 
But  the  Idea  swells,  and  fear 
Holds  its  persistent  force  in  check, 


Public  opinion — Fashion.  279 

Till  Thought  condensed  explodes  to  wreck 
The  steam  chests  of  Aristocrats, 
Thick  rivetted  bv  Theocrats. 


Public  Opinion  sways  mankind 
Except  the  King,  the  Jew,  and  hind. 
The  first  and  third  above  it  show, 
The  second  grovels  far  below. 


See  how  his  bastard,  Fashion  rules 
And  uniforms  her  gawking  schools ; 
She  giggles, — at  a  last  year's  gown 
Unworn,  a  health}*"  maid  will  swoon  ; 
This  year,  Consumption  fits  her  shoes. 
The  next,  and  stilts  her  heels  disclose  ; 
Last  year,  all  virgin, — now,  with  young, — 
The  next  upon  the  pave  will  throng 
The  jades,  delivered  of  their  humps, — 
No.     Fashion  piles  them  on  their  rumps. 

She  '11  curl  their  hat  brims,  dandies  stare 
If  you  a  better,  flattened,  wear. 
She  '11  add  two  buttons.     Abraham  gloats 
And  tickets  half-price  glossy  coats. 
Last  month,  Apollo's  pantaloons 
Dodged  from  the  skimping  tailor's  duns, 
And  now,  a  Titan's  trousers  bag 
Round  Fashion's  wandering  wending  leg. 

See  how  his  toothless  rabid  sire 
Nicknamed  as  "  Honor,"  drives  thro'  mire 
Of  Shame  and  Crime,  his  timid  slaves, 


280  Hondh! 


And  fills,  for  words,  their  brutish  graves. 

See,  trained  by  him,  the  bully  bawl 

Across  the  court,  with  savage  yell, 

While  thro'  his  pistol-sights,  his  glare 

Dances  on  buck-shot,  to  repair 

Within  the  juror's  clotted  heart, 

The  verdict  that  gave  "  Honor"  smart. 

Where  "High-toned  Families,"  strumpets  breed, 

The  Assassin  answers  "  Honor's"  need, 

Whose  Code  a  son  of  Cain  gives  birth, 

To  square  the  circle  'round  his  hearth, 

And  Justice  shivers  at  his  mirth 

As  winking  Judge  inspects  his  plea, 

"  Emotional  Insanity  !  " 

"  Mental  excitement  ?  "—"Mania  !  Sir," 

"  Insane  !  ?  "  "A  moment,  I  aver 

I  was  insane,  I  cried,  begad, 

For  I  was  mad  !  yes  very  mad  !  " 

O!  Sickles!  Stevens!  Sullivan! 

The  insanity  was  in  the  gun. 

When  Cain  for  Abel  sought,  he  had 

A  club  prepared, — the  club  was  mad, — 

Insane,  its  blow  was  death,  the  arm 

Alone,  scarce  capable  of  harm. 

When  murder 's  in  the  heart,  his  grip 

Finds  willing  weapon  at  his  hip, 

Where  coward  Honor  lies  in  wait, 

Hiding  from  Law,  to  assassinate. 

The  pistol  always  means  to  kill 

The  game-bag  only  proves  his  skill, 

Who  goes  a-gunning  all  his  days, 

Even  though  he  cries,  before  he  slays. 


How  the  hip  pocket  educates  the  man-slayer.    281 

Hell,  with  a  longing,  wishful  grin, 
Is  always  whispering  to  the  skin, 
Feeling  its  emissary's  tube, 
That  vomits  death,  forever  rub 
And  nose  it,  begging  for  the  pill 
Of  powdered  hate  to  puke,  and  kill. 
Death  felt  in  every  movement,  thought 
To  sudden  homicide  is  taught ; 
And  Honor's  crazy,  when  his  squeak 
Is  answered  by  his  victim's  shriek. 

Such  strength  has  doting  Honor  yet, 

Tho'  Murder  leaves  the  pave  red- wet 

With  child-wife's  blood,  whose  floating  steam 

For  vengeance!  swells  its  voiceless  scream, 

As  the  wan  ghost  drifts  high  and  higher, 

'Till  she  the  Eternal  Throne  aspire, 

And  wins  from  God  such  meed  for  guilt, 

As  Fury-whipped  Orestes  felt ; 

Man  mops  the  planks,  and  vindicates 

The  horror,  as  he  solemn  prates, — 

That  when  adultery  is  suspect 

He  can't  a  giddy  life  protect ; 

Certain  that  the  next  Summer's  rain 

Will  placate  Heaven,  and  cleanse  the  stain. 

If  such  its   might  abnormal,    where 
Set  limit  to  its  normal  power? 
Public  opinion  is  the  source 
Of  every  governmental  force. 
It  swings  the  axe  lops  Sultan's  head 
Whose  Janissaries  are  unfed  ; 
19 


282  Public  opinion. 


The  Catholic  hears  it, — left  in  lurch, 

By  Purcell,  levies  on  the  Church  ; 

It  laughs  at  Biddy,  Peter's  pence 

Are  lost,  to  Papal  indigence ; 

Beaten  by  law,  it  dropped  debate 

And  with  Sharpe's  rifles  won  a  State  ; 

Though  Webster  roared,  and  Taney  frowned, 

It  built  a  Railway  underground ; 

Despite  the  press,  broke  down  the  law, 

Despite  the  Church,  held  God  in  awe. 

Tho'  Cotton,  King,  abjured  its  sway, 

It  France  and  England  held  at  bay  ; 

It  more  than  arms,  Man's  victory  won 

As  John  Brown's  soul  went  marching  on. 


In  Freedom  'tis  omnipotent ; 

But  in  duress  it  must  ferment, 

Until  it  finds  through  bonds  a  vent, 

To  burst  in  wrath  to  its  intent. 

From  every  year  of  suff'ring  's  wrought 

A  century  of  infuriate  thought. 

And  they  but  fight  with  bolts  and  bars, 

Sisera-like,  the  coursing  stars, 

Who  as  Bismarck  or  Douglas  scheme 

To  rule  its  superheated  steam. 

The  steam  will  out,  tho'  Bismarck  sit 
On  safety  valve,  new  patch  to  fit ; 
Even  now  the  hissing  vapors  fling 
His  shroud  towards  every  frightened  King. 
Bismarcks  and  Williams  yet  will  feel 
A  Socialistic  Cromwell's  steel, 


Solid  South.  283 


As  Stafford  did,  or  Charles  the  first, 
(By  Mammon  sainted,  Man  accurst). 
Eight  hundred  thousand  votes  express 
A  Germany  that  mocks  duress, 
Vengeance  attends  Time's  plodding  feet. 
Man  is  immortal, — he  can  wait. 

Here  see  the  taint  of  Slavery's  corse 
Impregnate  Southern  air  with  force, 
And  send  its  putrid  product  forth 
As  Congressmen  to  rule  the  North, 
As  if  Pandora  there  unlocks 
To  plague  the  earth,  a  ballot  box, 
Whose  tissued  tickets  swell  our  debt 
By  "private  claims"  for  Slavocrat ; 
So  Mammon's  lawyer  howls  in  fear 
Lest  his  bonds,  quoted  now  at  par, 
Depreciate,  for  debt's  increase 
Must  mean  security's  decrease. 
Yet  thus  does  "Solid  South"  display 
Her  Private  Right  to  natural  sway, 
A  solid  South  but  means  that  Land 
Has  vindicated  her  demand 
For  that  control,  which  must  be  hers 
Wherever  plowshare  fallow  stirs. 


No  question  this  of  Black  and  White 
The  claim  is  just,  by  private  right. 
For  Mammon  never  yielded  yet 
A  right  for  general  benefit ; 
But  is,  by  law,  required  to  sell 
What  's  needed  for  the  commonweal. 


284  Land  rules  the  landless. 


For  all  thus  taken  by  the  State, 

It  must  the  owner  compensate. 

This  is  the  quarrel  'twixt  Wealth  and  Man, 

Which  never  ends,  and  never  can, 

While  Toil  must  life  and  muscle  sell 

For  leave  on  Mammon's  land  to  dwell, 

The  "color  line"  is  but  a  myth 

Ambition  gulls  the  simple  with. 

Deeper  than  color,  race,  or  blood, 

This  quarrel  dates  beyond  the  flood, 

When  Earth,  in  violence  corrupt, 

By  God's  avenging  tide  was  swept. 

"  Such  rain-falls  happen  often  ?  "  Never !  " 

44 Never,  you  say."     "Well,  hardly  ever." 

For  these  two  nations  all  comprise, 

That  dwell  beneath  the  arching  skies, 

Landed,  and  Landless,  Rich,  and  Poor, 

Whose  fight  forever  must  endure, 

Till  Nature's  bosom  gladly  hugs 

All  mankind  to  her  dripping  dugs. 


Land  rules  the  landless  ;  Nature  shows 
That  Mammon's  force  aye  downward  flows. 
'Tis  Nature's  law  ;  the  widest  root 
Must  still  produce  the  strongest  shoot, 
And  in  its  shade  all  meaner  growth 
Is — as  the  negro  in  the  South, 
Whose  lordlings  lacking  legal  lash, 
Still  hold  swart  Labor  in  their  leash, 
Who  dies  or  votes  as  they  command, 
With  legal  title  to  his  land, 
Forcing  their  ballot  in  his  hand. 


Archimides  perplexed.  285 


Whence  comes  the  sap  to  nourish  Toil, 

If  Law  denies  his  roots  the  soil  ? 

The  South,  for  mutual  guilt  is  blamed, 

For,  Dame  Columbia,  much  ashamed 

Of  her  black  baby — undesired, — 

By  Freedom  ravished  when  '  twas  sired, — 

Stole  out  at  night,  and  in  the  gloom 

Its  basket  hung  at  Foundlings'  Home, 

Denied  its  right  to  drain  her  breast, 

And  spurned  where  she  should  have  caressed. 

With  "  forty  acres  and  the  mule," 

This  heir  of  Sycorax  might  rule, 

Where  now  his  hoarse,  unwilling  throat 

Alarms  the  North  with  bulldozed  vote. 


Men,  like  Archimedes,  demand, 
To  move  the  world,  a  place  to  stand ; 
Four  million  paupers,  that,  denied 
Must  be  the  serfs  of  landed  pride. 
Suppose  the  negro  held  the  lands, 
Would  he  vote  carpet-bagger  bonds, 
Save  as  New  York  has  done  for  Tweed  ? 
Save  as  all  Ignorance  will  for  Greed? 


The  horse  and  driver  equal  share 
The  Street  Railway's  parental  care, 
Save  this,  the  Horse,  groomed,  stalled,  and  fed, 
Pays  wholesale  price  for  corn,  and  bed, 
And  knows  his  crib,  and  manger,  full, 
Rewards  his  six  hours'  honest  pull. 
Experience  proves  the  profit  lost 
If  longer  hours  the  horse  exhaust. 


286  Law  vs.  Gravity. 


Profit  remains,  tho'  Jehu  's  wan, 
Th'  experiment  's  not  been  tried  on  Man, 
The  Driver.    Ah  !  who  dare  affirm 
He  saw  one  with  groomed  epiderm, — 
Scant  time  for  bathing — sixteen  hours, 
Through  winter  frosts,  and  summer  showers 
Retain  his  place,  whose  ballot 's  robbed  ; 
Miswrit,  excuse  me,  ballot  's  Cobbed : 
Earn  wages  that  refuse  him  spice 
To  life,  sustained  at  retail  price. 
If  Law  allowed  Cobb's  horses  votes 
They  'd  vote  for  Wright  or  lose  their  oats. 

The  demagogue  may  froth  and  rave, 
But  Lackall  is  at  best  a  slave, 
Whose  force,  impotent  for  his  right 
Must  aid  his  legal  plunderers  might. 
The  loom  that  feeds  the  weaver's  babes, 
Weaves  votes  as  naturally  as  webs, 
Both  loom  and  weaver  must  obey, 
Or  cease  to  work,  the  engine's  sway. 

Ah  !  Blaine  !  No  legislative  tricks 

Can  Nature's  oil  and  water  mix, 

While  through  the  compound  bayonets  gleam, 

All  homogeneous  it  may  seem. 

But  see,  if  Hayes  Grant's  stirrings  stop, 

The  oil  will  gather  on  the  top  ; 

And  he  but  legislates  as  Pope 

With  comet  pits  his  Bull  to  cope, 

Whese  legislation  would  prevent 

Land's  private  right  to  government. 


The  Martyr  Age.    -  287 


In  scorn  of  Nature's  chemistry, 

Go  stir  again — 'tis  Anarchy  ! 

Each  atom  of  each  blended  race 

Untiring  strains  for  natural  place  ; 

With  gravity  but  fools  dispute  : 

Water  must  sink,  and  oil  must  float. 

How  hope  to  obtain  a  settled  State 

By  fanning  discontent  to  hate. 

The  South 's  not  good,  like  we  are, — well- 

If  she  's  a  little  nearer  hell, 

As  she  robs  labor,  that  we  cheat, 

'Tis  she,  not  we  must  bear  its  heat. 

Clubs  did  not  cure  the  perverse  bitch, 

'T  were  folly  now  to  try  a  switch  ; 

She  's  now  in  the  bull-dozing  stage 

Of  Progress, — that 's  the  Martyr  Age, — 

All  peoples  must  wade  that  red  sea, 

That  rolls  'twixt  Serfdom  and  the  free, 

Before  on  Pisgah's  heights  they  stand 

To  view  the  golden,  sun-lit  strand 

Of  Brotherhood's  long  Promised  Land. 

But  yesterday,  in  Boston  !  Sons 
Of  Slave-importing  Puritans 
Thro'  grinning  streets  led  Garrison, 
With  rope  encircled  neck, — what  fun  ! 
As  healthy  public  sentiment 
Awarded  Zealot  chastisement. 

We  laughed, — and  waded  afterward — 
And  his  black  brother  's  now  our  ward. 
Public  Opinion  's  changed  since  then, 


288         The  possible  best,  corrupted,  the  worst. 

Virginia's  beasts  are  Boston  men, 

Yet  they  must  wear  their  ropes,  because 

Public  Opinion  mocks  all  laws. 

Our  Ward  !  But  Freedom  can't  afford 
To  check  Opinion  by  the  sword ; 
By  force  are  martyrs  made, — as  well 
As  sigh  for  Heaven,  they  howl  for  Hell. 
France  clutched  the  sword  for  La  Vendee- 
Found  a  Napoleon, — so  would  we, 
Did  we  to  any  man  entrust 
The  power  to  make  the  Southron  just. 

For  men,  unanimous  for  wrong 

Power  cannot  quell,  but  'tis  too  strong 

For  Freedom, — as  it  longs  upon 

The  narrow  ford  of  Rubicon. 

A  Nation  with  its  N  overgrown 

Is  perilously  near  a  throne. 

When  Frenchmen  were  by  u  glory  "  lured. 

'T  was  the  sole  letter  in  the  word. 

If  Treason  's  known  by  his  defeat, 
And  Victory  proves  who  had  the  right, 
O  !  Lawyers  burn  your  briefs  and  "  train,' 
Let  muscle  serve  in  lieu  of  brain, 
Contend  for  verdicts  with  your  fists 
And  causes  win  as  pugilists. 
Bah  !  nothing  's  proven  by  a  war. 
But  what  is  settled  by  a  spar  : 
The  God  of  battle  always  aids 
The  side  that  has  the  best  brigades. 


War  the  pioneer  of  Peace.  289 

But  War's  blaze  reddens  on  the  clouds 
Of  darkness  which  a  land  enshrouds. 
Its  bellowing  thunders  crash  thro'  ears 
With  cursing  full,  and  deaf  to  prayers, 
Its  hissing  lightning's  lurid  glare 
Splits  passage  thro'  the  astounded  air 
Till  light  can  follow  thro'  the  breach — 
•'Go  out  thro'  all  the  land,  and  preach," 
That  Force  alone,  the  South  can  reach, 
Love  tvins  his  vassals  by  "  Free  Speech" 

A  barren  victory  we  bought 
When  pity  left  the  South  untaught. 
Bunting  at  half-mast ;  dreary  sign 
For  Custom-Houses  swings  supine. 
— Within  whose  folds  no  citizen 
Is  wrapped  in  all  that  Landlord's  den — 
Droops  over  States  by  Factions  rent, 
And  ruled  by  knaves  on  plunder  bent, 
Whose  forum's  snarling,  shrill  debate 
Has  purpose  but  to  phrenzy  hate. 

Forced  marriage  'twixt  the  South  and  North 
The  drab  and  bully,  must  give  birth 
To  Crime's  corrupt  and  mildewed  fruit, 
Till  rills  from  bitter  springs  flow  sweet. 
Its  only  bond  the  party  built 
On  Ignorance,  combined  with  guilt. 
The  "  Democrat,1'  by  love  abhorred, 
Bondholders'  serf  and  Serfdom's  lord. 
Their  offspring,  whom  consent  has  wed 
Alone  can  bless  the  marriage  bed. 


2QQ  Force  never  conquers. 

Go !    read   your  horn-book,  Statesman  Elaine, 

States  pauperized,  are  War's  domain. 

Not  even  Mammon's  force  can  quell 

The  strife  in  Moloch's  lower  hell : 

Man  can  but  wait  while  through  their  night 

The  land  and  serf  have  out  their  fight. 

How  long,  God  knows  ;  the  grim  affray 

Of  Hastings  knows  no  end  to-day ; 

In  England  yet  the  arrowy  sleet 

Of  Saxon  bows,  blunts  at  the  feet 

Of  Norman  armor,  sped  and  lost 

For  ages  on  the  mail  of  caste. 

Good  God  !  Through  Ireland's  every  Fair 

To-day  Boyne's  dirty  currents  tear. 

Still  Limerick's  tattered  hosts  appall 

Beleaguered  Derry's  battered  wall. 

From  "  Papal  power  and  wooden  shoes" 

'Neath  landlords'  rule  she  rescue  rues. 

Neighbor  meets  neighbor  with  a  scowl, 

In  savage  feuds  shillalahs  howl, 

And  creeds  contend  to  barbarize, 

Till  hatred  glares  from  childrens'  eyes. 

And  even  here,  St.  Patrick's  ghost 

Arrays  in  green  his  squalid  host, 

Acraze,  if  Orange  lends  a  grace 

And  brightens  bloom  of  brunette's  face. 

Force  never  conquers.     From  the  Abyss 
Undying  Hate's  continuous  hiss 
Blends  with  the  wails  of  dull  despair, 
As  grim  Jehovah  triumphs  there. 


How  Rome  levelled  an  aristocracy.  291 

If  in  the  early  dawn  you  crush 
A  serpent's  head  to  bloody  mush, 
Thro'  Summer's  day  its  tail  will  writhe 
Till  sunset,  angry,  fierce,  and  lithe. 
And,  if  denied  a  sepulchre, 
Will,  after,  taint  the  atmosphere. 


When  Man  of  Freedom's  throes  is  born, 
Placenta  must  from  womb  be  torn, 
Else  with  imbedded  death  she'll  strain, 
And  die,  of  afterbirth,  in  pain. 

When  Rome  subdued  the  Gabii, 
They  gave  no  after  pain  :     the  why, 
Tell  me,  ye  statesmen,  who  debate 
Of  Davis,  pensioned  by  the  State, 
Because  you  dared  not  confiscate 
The  lands  of  traitors,  and  bestow 
Their  acres  on  their  natural  foe. 

When  water  cleanses  Pilate's  hand 
(By  murdered  innocence  blood-stained  !  ) 
That  doomed  to  death  of  pain  and  shame, 
The  man  in  whom  he  found  no  blame ; 
Then  legislation  can  assoil 
Their  guilt,  who  on  swart  sons  of  Toil 
Heaped  Serfdom's  cross,  to  see  them  bend 
Tho'  free  by  law,  the  slaves  of  land. 

A  democratic  party,  schooled 
Bull-dozing  to  maintain,  and  ruled 
By  shot-gun  representatives ; 


292        The  North  and  South,  seen  from  Ebal. 


And  a  republican,  that  lives 

On  faded  glory  all  profaned, 

By  bondholders,  who  have  attained 

Its  guidance,  and  whose  greed  exacts 

From  wages  slaves  a  tripled  tax. 

A  North,  subservient  to  Gold, 

A  South  by  lords  of  land  controlled, 

Alike  rob  Labor,  and  divide 

The  curses  wanting  cankered  pride. 

And  such  their  doom,  he  must  foretell 

Who  in  the  calm  of  thought  can  dwell, 

•  ° 

An  inch  or  two  above  the  crowd 
And  note  their  discord,  jarring,  loud, 
Hither  and  yonder  drive  the  ball, 
Which,  with  each  struggle,  nears  its  goal. 

But  for  abuses,  Power  exists. 

Man  still  must  grope  in  dusking  mists 

Whose  gloom  's  unpierced  by  faintest  ray 

To  herald  his  millenial  day, 

Must  hopeless  his  fruition  wait, 

While  "Private  Right"  evolves  the  State. 

Ne'er  can  in  peace  on  plenty  feast 

Until  the  greatest  serves  the  least ; 

Until  the  wisest  racks  his  mind 

To  heal,  and  not  to  hurt  his  kind. 

Till  they,  in  Love,  find  their  reward 

Who  serving  Man  best  serve  his  Lord ; 

Until  all  creeds  that  on  Greed  fawn 

He  buries  'neath  contempt  and  scorn. 


The  past  poisons  the  present.  293 

Till  happy  earth  refuses  room 
For  granite  plinth  to  mark  his  tomb, 
Who  grown  insane  with  selfishness, 
Spends  life  to  curse,  what  he  might  bless. 

Ah!  While  upon  the  Place  Venddme 
The  brazen  column  finds  a  home, 
From  captured  cannon  cast,  and  flings 
War's  halo  on  a  King  of  Kings ! 
While  from  its  height  Napoleon  glares 
In  bronze,  upon  a  town  that  fears 
To  wreck  the  monument,  whence  Crime's 
Apotheosis  perching,  mimes 
The  Governments  that  in  its  shade, 
Make  Man  a  serf  and  God  a  Trade, 
Though  Gambetta,  McMahon,  Thiers, 
Each  flaunts  his  day,  each  disappears, 
And  on  Man's  future  leaves  no  trace  ; 
Napoleon's  "  Glory,"  rules  his  race. 

France,howling  "Vengeance!"and  "The  Rhine!" 

Lies  raging  at  his  gory  shrine. 

In  her  the  tongue  of  Love  is  mute — 

Till  working-men  refuse  to  shoot 

Their  fellows,  to  assert  a  claim 

For  domination,  or  for  "  Fame," 

And  all  uniting,  drag  the  thought 

To  earth,  that  in  the  bronze  is  wrought, 

Each  shifting,  wrangling  Cabinet 

Of  France,  is  but  a  changing  threat 

To  eclipse  the  dawn  with  glooms  of  war 

And  light  the  earth  with  "  Glory's  Star." 


294  The  World  Righters. 

As  Cromwell's  warty  ghost  still  rules 
In  England  and  each  Guelph  schools 
To  quiet  cunning,  lest  his  axe 
Repeal  a  too  outrageous  tax. 
Tho'  in  her  royal  galleries,  space, 
'Twixt  Lies  and  Lust,  refused  his  face. 
— Her  greatest  monarch,  loyal  pride 
The  Lord  Protector's  reign  denied — 
All  England  sees  it  on  the  wall, 
All  England  knows  it  waits  her  call. 
— Not  long,  thank  God  !  a  few  more   years 
And  rage  will  dry  her  blinding  tears, — 
His  bleaching  head,  on  Temple  Bar 
Restrains,  affrighting  with  its  glower, 
A  scrofulous  breed,  all  coward  born, 
Cradled  in  down,  and  lapped  in  lawn; 
And  Freedom  slowly  gains  as  dread 
Faints  in  their  eyes,  and  limps  their  tread. 

So  France,  to  Danton  must  return, 
And  feel  his  grand  heart  thro'  her  yearn ; 
— The  heart  that  power  and  creed  defames, 
Whose  ardor,  their  cold  splendor,  shames, — 
For  universal  Right,  for  Man, 
For  nobler  aims  than  tribe,  or  clan, 
With  "  Glory  "  spawning  "  invalides  " 
On  grandeur's  brutal  pyramids. 

What  part  of  "  Glory"  e'er  was  claimed 
(Save  privilege  to  rape,  unshamed,) 
By  Toil's  invading  renegade, 
Trampling  the  harvests  of  his  spade. 


The  Martyrs  build  the  Shrines.  295 

Ah  !  Frenchmen,  on  the  Place  de  Greve 
You  did  Man's  victory  achieve ! 
There  !  women  fearless,  knit,  and  there 
The  tyrant's  fate,  left  him  co-heir 
Inheritance,  in  love,  to  share. 
For  Love  grows  cruel,  when  his  wrath 
Sweeps  drones  and  tyrants  from  his  path. 

France  will  unite,  and  once  again 
Drag  down  that  horror  to  the  plain. 
Ambition's  spectre — hating  wraith — 
Glooming  with  "  Glory  "  Reason's  path. 
And  at  its  fall,  the  doleful  wail, 
Of  shuddering  priests  and  tyrants  pale 
Will  float  like  feathers  on  the  gale 
Of  Freedom's  shout,  as  every  den 
Whence  Labor  breaks,  cries  glad  "  Amen." 
Danton  again  will  wake  !     The  walls 
Blood-spattered  by  praetorian  balls — 
Where  thro'  the  dismal,  rattling  dawn, 
In  long  files  stood  and  died — Commune — 
Shall  know  their  dreary  stains  effaced, 
And  all  the  proud  Tuilleries  graced 
With  Love's  memorials,  as  enrolled, 
Man's  martyrs  shine  in  burnished  gold. 

Aye,  strut  your  waning  day,  ye  great ! 
Labor  that  built  shall  own  the  State. 
His  ruddy  flag  again  shall  call 
To  life  and  love  the  law-bound  thrall 
Of  Europe's  thrones,  and  surly  Cain 
In  fright  will  fly  Man's  face  again. 


296  Antceus  unconquerable. 

Danton  is  coming, — O  !  be  wise. 
Anger  him  not  with  sophistries, 
Nor  weary  him  with  slow  debate 
On  what  terms  you  capitulate  ; 
Concede  him  Nature's  equal  law  ; 
Behind  him, — drunken, — stands  Marat. 

For  poverty  is  sinewed.     Dearth  , 

Man  closer  drives  to  mother  earth. 
From  every  fall  Antaeus  springs 
With  strength  renewed  at  throats  of  Kings. 
On  Nature's  drink  and  Nature's  bread 
The  conquerors  of  the  world  are  fed. 
Strength  leaps,  spontaneous,  from  the  field, 
Stalks  frowning  from  his  smoke-grimed  bield, 
With  nervous  courage  in  his  stride, 
Into  the  halls,  where  lust  and  pride, 
State  fed,  and  pampered,  cease  to  brawl, 
And  at  his  feet  in  terror  sprawl. 

Hark  ye  !  whose  Law-created  sun 
Your  bonds  and  mortgages  smiles  on, 
Forcing  their  silent  fungous  growth 
Thro'  winter's  frost  and  summer's  drouth, 
Whose  cancerous  wilderness  of  roots, 
Throughout  the  social  frame,  sends  shoots, 
Which  scattering  virus  taint  the  course 
Of  Labor's  life-blood  at  its  source. 

Ye  who  God's  query  mock,  with  Cain, 
"Are  we  our  brothers'  keepers,  then  ?'' 
Who  discrown  Labor,  and  compel 


Samson.  297 


His  blinded  strength  your  hoards  to  swell. 
Who  sweat  his  blood,  and  rack  his  brain, 
For  cushioned,  lolling,  Luxury's  gain, 
And,  like  Philistines  in  their  court, 
Make  of  your  captive,  vaunting  sport. 

Can  you  not  see  the  giant  move  ? 

Can  you  not  feel  his  swart  hands  rove, 

Groping  the  columns,  that  uphold 

Your  vaulted  fane  of  breeding  gold  ? 

Can  you  not  scent  the  smouldering  fire, 

Of  his  awaking,  vengeful  ire  ? 

Nor  hear  his  sobbing,  laboring  breath, 

As  Samson  struggles  for  his  death  ? 

That  you  still  spurn,  flout,  taunt,  and  jeer 

His  sightless  misery — void  of  fear ; — 

Drain  luscious  wines,  and  gaily  prance 

The  giddy  mazes  of  your  dance ; 

Glad  homage  yield  your  yellow  God, 

His  dizened  acolytes  applaud, 

And  boast  his  might,  who  sent  this  shame 

Upon  Jehovah's  hated  name, 

That  you,  in  fancied  safety  gird 

The  sad  earth's  chained  and  waiting  Lord. 

Ah  !  Revellers !  note  the  clustering  locks 
Whose  vigor  legal  bondage  mocks ; 
Even  now  his  steely  sinews  strain 
The  gilded  posts  that  prop  your  fane  ; 
See  how  his  sunken  eyeballs  stare, 
With  crazed,  demoniac,  iron-red  glare, 
As  tho'  a  fiend's  glance  pierced  the  air, 

20 


298  Equality. 


Of  Hell's  abyss,  in  blank  despair. 
While  suicidal,  murderous  cries, 
In  broken  gasps,  unceasing  rise. 
"Only  this  once  !  for  my  two  eyes  ! 
Jehovah  !  Aid !  O  !   let  me  die 
That  they  with  me  in  death  may  lie." 

Your  rocking  temple  seals  your  doom : 
Its  splintered  stones  shall  mark  your  tomb, 
While  down  the  ages,  echoing,  pour 
The  paeans  of  the  gladdened  poor, 
Rejoicing  o'er  the  fallen  tower 
Of  land-based,  profit-mortared  Power. 


Labor  alone  will  resurrect ; 
The  broken  stones,  and  columns  cracked 
He  '11  gather,  and  long  aisles  of  homes 
Replace  your  gilded  empty  domes. 
One  roof  will  shelter  hundreds,  where 
Perpetual  fragrance  fills  the  air. 
Each  family  clustering  at  its  hearth, 
Or  warmed  or  cooled  by  Mother  Earth, 
In  happy  harmony,  unbroke — 
For  none  impose  or  wear  the  yoke 
Of  creed,  and  there  no  wish  shall  gain 
Admittance,  for  another's  pain. — 
All  live  at  cost ;  the  widow's  cruise 
Is  ever  full  where  none  misuse, 
Or  waste  the  gifts  that  Nature  showers 
In  watered  crops  and  frostless  bowers. 
Age  has  no  helplessness,  secure, 
Where  none  are  rich,  there  none  are  poor. 


Retribution.  299 


O !  ye  who  glean  from  Potter's  field 

The  scanty  harvests  wrong  can  yield  ; 

Who  shape  its  hillocks  in  pursuit 

Of  selfish  happiness,  and  hoot 

Him  as  insane,  whose  love- waked  eyes 

Discern  thro'  mists  of  tyrannies, 

The  shadows  of  the  glorious  goal 

That  waits  Heart  blent  with  Brain  for  Toil. 

Think  ye  the  God  of  Justice  lolls 

In  drowsy  ease,  while  Time  unrolls 

Her  record  to  his  hazy  eyes, 

How  Profit  bloats,  and  Manhood  dies  ? 

That  he  supine,  and  listless,  lies 

So  far  remote  in  azure  skies, 

That  Misery's  wail,  and  Labor's  moan 

Wasted  in  space,  ne'er  reach  his  throne  ? 


Ye  fools,  whose  hopes  are  born  of  earth  : 

Who  famine  fattened,  thrive  on  dearth  ; 

Behind  you  Retribution  creeps, 

Her  foot-falls  planted  in  your  steps ; 

Vengeance  but  waits  until  your  cup 

Brims  full  with  curses  you  shall  sup ; 

Until  the  usury-bursting  debt 

You  owe  despoiled  and  unpaid  sweat, 

To  its  last  day  of  grace  arrives, 

Then  her  stern  hand,  remorseless  rives 

The  law-protected,  crimsoned  spoils 

For  which  you've  pawned  your  wizened  souls, 

Aye !  Nemesis  with  Man  conspires 
To  rear  the  suicidal  pyres 


300  The  Titans  subdue  the  Gods. 

Ambition's  senseless,  selfish  craze 

Kindles  to  all  consuming  blaze, 

High-flaming  over  pomp  and  pride 

Whose  law  the  Eternal  Right  defied, 

Blending  their  palaces  with  mould, 

Leaving  in  ash  their  glittering  gold, 

While  Mammon's  votaries,  chill  and  gaunt, 

Herd  houseless  on  the  shores  of  want, 

(Their  flabby  muscles,  interest-fed, 

Unfit  to  earn  .their  daily  bread,) 

While  those  whose  necks  their  spiked  heels  trod, 

Laugh,  as  they  whine  of  Mercy's  God, 

And  wreak  revenges  on  the  drones 

Whose  sordid  blood  their  crime  atones. 

Unpitying  slay,  while  Heaven  applauds, 
The  snivelling,  would-be  demigods, 
For  whose  just  doom  is  heard  no  sigh, 
For  whose  just  doom  is  wet  no  eye 
Or  if  there  are,  no  God  is  there, 
To  note  the  tear,  or  heed  the  prayer. 

Luxurious  ease,  which,  fear,  disdains, 

Is  surest  harbinger  of  pains. 

The  lull  of  silent  tropic  seas, 

Whose  waveless  calm  seems  lasting  peace, 

Foretells  the  howling  hurricane 

Whose  blasts  tear  thro'  th'  affrighted  main. 


Here,  though  the  pyramid  of  power 
Based  on  robbed  labor  seems  secure, 
Tho'  hawk-nosed  Syrians  of  the  school 


The  Teredo.  301 


For  Pharaoh  all  Egypt  stole, 
With  legal  engines  ceaseless  pile 
New  burdens  on  the  o'er  burdened  soil. 
Till  now  they  rave  for  the  last  stone 
Its  vertex  to  adorn, — a  throne. 

— Filled  when  the  scared  and  plundered  State, 

Elects  this  third-term  candidate, 

Who  like  an  heir-apparent  eyes 

The  crown  he'll  wear  when  Freedom  dies. 

His  dangerous  Fame,  the  vilest  scar 

She  got  by  internecine  war. 


Not  but  they'd  be  as  well  content 

With  the  hoar  hypocrite,  whose  plaint 

Awakes  derision  as  he  rates 

Fraud  for  her  theft  of  bull-dozed  states. 

Who  still  intent  on  earning  Fame 

With  fresh  cogged  dice  would  win  his  game, 

Would  drive  Columbia's  patrols 

From  all  her  presidential  polls, 

And  prideful  place  in  History  fix, 

By  turning  up  a  double  six  ! — 


Who  cannot  see  that  at  its  base 
Is  here  and  there  a  thinking  face, 
Which  moans  no  more  of  hapless  fate, 
But  toils  untiring  'neath  their  State, 
To  dig  th'  abyss,  which  deep  and  wide, 
Will  'gulf  in  doom  their  high  piled  pride. 
Who  cannot  hear  the  grumbling  earth 
Complain  her  harvest-trampled  dearth, 


302  Laocoon. 


While  her  hot  heart  fierce  flames  to  burst 
A  chasm  in  her  tortured  crust, 
From  which  oblivion's  ash  shall  gloom 
The  pall  of  pomp  and  shower  its  tomb. 

Like  Laocoon,  straining  Toil 
All  helpless  in  the  slimy  coil 
Of  the  Constrictor,  tottering  stands, 
To  fend,  with  unavailing  hands 
His  living  death,  whose  horrid  fold 
Betrays  the  sheen  of  hungry  gold. 
At  quivering  knee  and  panting  breast, 
His  crushed,  expiring  babes  are  pressed, 
Whose  filmy  eyes  in  anguish  stare 
To  his  drawn  face,  despairing  prayer, 
While  to  his  brain  the  poison  's  sped 
Of  the  quick-darting-hissing  head. 

Who  sees  that  statue  comprehends 
What  meaning  with  the  chiseling  blends. 
Profit  the  coils.     The  venomed  head 
Vindictive  and  malignant  creed. 
And  Man,  supporting  both,  contends 
'Gainst  double  death  with  naked  hands. 
His  children,  Art  and  Science,  bound, 
And  fettered  in  the  narrow  round 
That  bigots  grant  to  thought,  in  vain 
With  nerveless  limbs  for  freedom  strain, 
Palsied  by  want  and  numbed  by  fear 
All  helpless  to  avenge  their  sire. 
Yet  in  this  age  will  Labor  break 
These  paralyzing  coils,  and  shake 


Interest  must  be  abolished.  303 

From  his  freed  limbs  the  crushing  weight 
Of  tax  for  debt  evolved  of  Hate. 
For  here  his  hand  is  weaponed.     Here 
Even  now  the  forked  tongue  shrinks  in  fear. 
With  brain  taught  ballot  now  his  wrath 
Copes  with  the  bonds  of  clinging  death. 

When  Man  once  knows,  as  dollars  breed, 
They  eat  what  Labor's  children  need  ; 
That  nations  who  incur  a  debt, 
To  pay  will  steal  his  childrens'  meat 
Rather  than  tax  the  "  House  of  God" 
Sensation  mongering  to  Fraud  ; 
Rather  than  ask  that  annual  gain, 
Shall  annual  expense  sustain  ; 
That  Interest,  even  now,  demands 
More  then  all  profit  of  all  lands, 
That  's  yearly  saved  by  patient  toil, 
From  all  machines,  and  from  all  soil, 
He  will,  he  must  repudiate 
All  Interest.     Why  should  he  create, 
But  to  see  power,  by  usury,  swell 
Stored  sulphur  for  an  earthly  hell. 

When. he  can  comprehend  how  theft 

His  righteous  profit  has  bereft, 

How  Rent  will  more  than  halve  his  crop, 

And  double  cost  at  retail  shop ; 

How  'twill  his  food  adulterate, 

Will  shrink  its  bulk,  decrease  its  weight ; 

And  knows  the  purse-proud  millionaire 

Exists  because  Law  will  not  share 


304  All  will  own  what  All  create. 

'The  value  made  where  workers  throng, 
Which  should  to  them,  of  Right  belong. 
As  landed  sharks  find  legal  spoil    -» 
In  wealth  his  presence  adds  to  soil. 
Labor  will  shape  his  palm  to  fist 
And  land  monopoly  resist. 
Each  town,  incorporate,  will  demand 
Sole  ownership  of  all  its  land, 
And  all  the  wealth  that  needs  create 
Where  toiling  thousands  aggregate 
Will  to  their  common  granary  flow 
Who  reap  the  harvests  that  they  sow. 

Man -loving  Gracchi  will  discuss 
With  red-eyed  gyve-marked  Spartacus, 
How  clip,  with  sharp  Agrarian  Laws, 
Fierce  Mammon's  subdividing  claws  ; 
Who  when  Toil  has  a  city  planned 
Clutches  by  deed,  suburban  land, 
And,  as  the  struggling  multitude, 
Who  in  its  business  find  their  food, 
Increase  in  numbers,  and  surround 
With  cottages,  his  forestalled  ground, 
Claims  as  his  legal  Right,  the  gain 
The  town  bestows  on  sterile  plain,. 
And  gladly  sees,  from  fields  untilled, 
His  vaults  with  yellow  harvests  filled. 
As  shelter  seekers  must  compete, 
And  cost  of  acres,  pay  for   "  feet," 
To  him,  who  with  Law's  title  squats, 
Waiting  for  Fortune,  on  his  lots  ; 
Dragged  to  his  wealth,  as  boys  who  meet 


Rage  repressed  is  stimulated.  305 


The  jogging  farmer  on  the  street, 

And  hitched  behind  his  sled,  in  pride. 

Past  self-dependent  plodders  glide. 

When  peoples,  like  the  farmer,  find 

The  load  too  great,  they  '11  u  cut  behind," 

And,  mocking  execrations  swing 

Their  lash,  with  justice'  knotted  sting, 

Laughing  to  see  the  law-made  rich 

Tumbling  and  cursing  in  the  ditch, 

While  Progress,  from  their  dead   weight  freed, 

Flies  on  her  course  with  swifter  speed. 

A  Bobbin-winder  would  be  missed 
But  never  an  Evangelist, 
And  when  no  Landlord  's  left  on  earth, 
His  loss  will  be  the  loss  of  dearth ! 


When  wakening  thought  in  seething  brain 

Breaks  from  the  torpid  priest's  domain 

And  seeks  to  guide  Man's  errant  course 

That  Love  may  dwell  in  peace  with  Force, 

All  legislation  to  suppress 

The  strong  hoarse  cry  which  claims  redress, 

Awakens  but  a  fiercer  zeal, 

Wrong's  moss-grown  statutes  to  repeal. 


The  Social  organism's  rife 

With  whirring  turmoil,  ceaseless  strife : 

Such  as  thro'  Chaos'  formless  night 

Broke  at  the  word,     "Let  there  be  Light." 

While  aimless,  earth-accusing  cries, 

To  laughing  Heaven, "unceasing  rise, 


806  Usurers  veneered  Cannibals. 


As  new  forms  crush  and  rend  the  old 
Resisting,  even  in  their  mould. 
Surrounded  by  a  world  transformed, 
For  old  life  shaped,  in  new,  deformed, 
The  Saurian  and  Icthyosaur, 
Gasp  in  the  fresher  atmosphere, 
Whose  bright  air  stifles,  in  their  grime, 
The  monsters  bred  in  Chaos'  slime. 

As  now,  his.  shelves  the  student  fills 
With  craniums  of  cannibals, 
From  their  repulsive  forms  to  trace 
The  painful  progress  of  his  race, 
So  in  that  age  whose  law  is  love, 
The  usurer's  skull  he  '11  hunt  to  prove 
The  advance,  the  arch  of  thought  has  made 
Since  Man  upon  his  fellow  preyed. 

As  the  sun's  fervid  scorching  glare 

Is  mellowed  in  the  ambient  air, 

And  red,  intolerable  heat 

Is  through  earth's  mediator  light. 

They  who  have  reached  that  height  sublime, 

Unselfish  love  alone  can  climb, 

Whence    crystal  hearts,  undimmed,  transmit 

The  radiance  of  the  Infinite, 

Attempering  for  human  gaze 

Its  dazzling  and  unclouded  blaze, 

Until  eternal  wisdom  gleams 

Throughout  their  world-reforming  schemes, 

And  through  the  caverns  of  the  soul 

Light's  waves  in  undulations  roll, 


What  the  Thinkers  teach.  307 

That  human  eyes,  beyond  the  void 
Dazed,  blinded  by  creative  God. 
May  see  in  Rainbow  and  its  shower 
Th'  Eternal  Lover,  and  adore. 

They  all,  one  voiced,  to  Man  proclaim 
Earth's  "glory"  is  but  Heaven's  shame, 
And  highest  thought  in  every  age 
Its  protest  writes  on  History's  page, 
Moaning  the  miseries  self-brought 
Which  Ignorance  thro'  Law  has  wrought. 

The  immortal  Galaxy  of  mind, 
By  Love,  from  lust  of  gold  refined, 
Cry  to  their  fellows  from  their  height, 
To  spurn  all  compromise  for  Right. 
— A  bridge  would  span  the  dread  abyss 
'Twixt  world  of  woe  and  world  of  bliss — 
To  overturn  from  base  to  tower 
The  moated  citadels  of  power, 
Till  He,  whose  right  it  is,  shall  come, 
And  God  in  Man  the  world  illume. 
To  rear  Love's  all-embracing  dome, 
And  make  the  radiant  earth,  fit  home 
For  Life  enfranchised  from  the  cells 
Of  gloom  and  want,  in  which  he  dwells, 
By  dragging  Heaven  from  the  sky 
'Tis  hidden  in  by  piety, 
With  human  consanguinity. 

To  cease,  the  old  with  new  to  mend  ; 
Reason  with  cruel  creed  to  blend ; 


308  Destruction  must  precede  Reform. 


New  law  on  old,  is  greater  curse, 

New  cloth  on  old,  the  rent  grows  worse. 

That  no  reform  will  kill  the  weed 

Till  deadened  root  prevent  its  seed. 

That  cataclysms  must  destroy 

All  systems  which  give  Greed  employ. 

That  Labor's  reign,  by  him,  abhorred, 

On  Mammon's  peace  must  bring  the  sword, 

And  Revolution's  torrents  flood 

The  dismal  trophies  of  the  proud, 

Till,  as  from  chaos  sprang  the  earth 

Wierd  anarchy  evolves  her  birth, 

To  realize  the  dream  of  God 

In  Universal  Brotherhood. 

As  in  the  days  when  Time  was  young, 
Th'  Angelic  hosts,  in  wonder  hung 
Over  a  mist-hid  shrieking  world, 
Whose  elemental  warfare  whirled 
Slow  forming  matter  thro'  long  night , 
While  soul  informed  chaotic  might ; 
And  saw,  with  eyes  that  pierced  the  gloom, 
The  struggling  forces,  shape  assume, 
And  each,  no  longer,  law  resist, 
Balanced  by  its  antagonist, 
Till  earth,  of  nebula  evolved, 
Secret  of  dateless  contest  solved. 

So  thro'  Hope's  prism  Man  may  see 
The  glory  of  his  destiny. 
Beyond  this  atmosphere  of  Hate 
See  Infinite  Love,  all-patient,  wait 


Lovers  victory.  309 


Till  his  light,  moral  glooms  dispel, 
Till  discords  into  harmony  swell, 
Till  Mind  the  eternal  law  obeys 
Which  now,  obedient  Matter  sways, 
By  free-will  driven  on  her  road, 
Aye  gravitating  to  her  God. 


Beyond  these  wintry,  watery  wastes 

Tormented  by  opposing  blasts, 

Gleams  in  glad  light  the  sunny  strand 

Of  Man's  long  sought,  bright  Promised-Land, 

In  Summer  seas  it  smiling  lies 

O'erarched  by  radiant  cloudless  skies. 

And  o'er  it  beams  his  natal  star 

Who  died  because  he  hoped  it  near. 

There  dinted  swords  are  beat  to  shares  ; 
There  pruning  hooks  are  made  of  spears  ; 
The  horrid  panoply  of  war 
The  mother's  he.art  affrights  no  more ; 
There  the  bright  spade  and  glittering  hoe 
Honors  on  their  staunch  wielders  throw  ; 
There  Labor,  from  his  clustering  vine 
Drinks  sweetened  joy  in  draughts  divine^; 
And  'neath  the  spreading  fig  tree's  shade, 
None  dares  molest  or  make  afraid. 
There  free  as  air,  the  fruitful  soil 
Yields  daily  bread  to  sturdy  toil. 
Throughout  that  land  is  no  distress 
For  each  owns  all,  and  none  oppress. 
For  virtue  thrives  on  plenty's  food. 
'Tis  happiness  that  makes  men  good. 


810  The  realm  of  Love. 

There  the  unpardonable  sin 

Is  not  committed  at  fourteen, 

And  the  girl-mother's  reckless  love 

Virtue  will  but  to  pity  move. 

For  sinless  love  no  shame  incurs 

When  it  forgives  the  love  that  errs. 

Maternity  is  sacred  there, 

And  bosoms,  dripping  nectar,  fear 

No  poisoned  sting  of  verjuiced  prude 

Poisoning  the  milk  of  motherhood. 

Such  virtue  is  but  ripened  sin, 

And  hatred  nestles  in  its  grin. 

There  virgin  hearts,  love  blended,  mate, 

And  nobler  forms  of  Man  create, 

In  bliss,  beyond  delight,  bestowed 

When  Nature  swoons  to  incarnate  God. 

There  withered  age  with  gold  can't  buy 
False  oaths  of  wedded  infamy, 
From  blooming  youth,  to  see  them  blest 
By  chuckling,  leering,  waiting  priest. 
No  convents  thro'  green  sickness  leer 
At  psederastic  monks  who  sneer 
I^ust-satisfied,  tho'  Nature  charms 
With  heaving  bust,  and  clinging  arms. 

Of  horror  in  its  nursery, 
Love  dies,  that  brings  forth  jealousy, 
For  self-love  feeds  the  monstrous  birth 
And  leaves  its  mother  die  of  dearth. 
Pure  love  is  barren  of  such  bane, 
Its  object  's  pleasure  gives  no  pain. 


Development  the  business  of  life.  311 


There  he  who  sows,  his  harvest  reaps, 
And  thieves  unfearing,  smiling  sleeps, 
Wakes  with  the  dawn,  to  hear  his  soul 
Join  the  gay  songsters'  glad  carol, 
And  see  the  dancing  lord  of  life, 
Pour  morning's  raptures  thro'  his  wife. 

No  children,  there,  for  kisses  pine, 

With  cheeks  uncolored  by  the  wine 

The  heart  expresses  from  the  lips, 

That  blooming  love  in  rapture  sips. 

The  blasted  intellectual  germs 

With  which  the  city  gutter  swarms, 

And  in  Man's  nostrils,  stenchful,  rot 

As  gambler,  prostitute,  and  sot, 

Love's  laws  transplant  to  genial  soil 

Whose  sun  of  science  shines  for  all. 

The  Nation's  wards,  all  children,  there 

An  equal  education  share. 

And  Man  will  harvest  mind,  where  now 

Thro'  pauperism  runs  no  plow 

To  turn  to  light  the  moral  waste 

Where  prowls,  for  pence  the  red-gilled  priest, 

Whence  brute-jawed,  pimpled  demagogues 

Drive  voters  as  a  herdsman  hogs, 

Squeaking  for  swill  from  tax-heaped  trough, 

Until  the  ballot-box,  the  scoff 

Of  Honor,  and  the  Public  Shame, 

To  office  Hesing  spues,  or  Rehm. 

There  hoarded  wealth  and  gold  unearned 
By  the  enfranchised  mind  are  spurned, 


312  Idleness  criminal. 

And  given  to  Love,  lest  they  betray 

Their  owner's  sordid  ancestry. 

For  Wealth  that  's  limited  to  use 

Invests  for  Man  its  overplus, 

Nor  seeks  to  add  to  Misery's  pain 

By  flaunting  in  his  eyes  the  gain 

Whose  excess  marks  the  depths  of  woe, 

As  metres  on  the  Nilus  show 

The  distance  'twixt  the  height  of  flood, 

And  the  unsunned,  miasma'd  mud. 

No  pestilence  in  that  hallowed  air  ; 

No  famine's  victims  perish  there, 

Of  daily  hunger,  guilty,  fed 

For  crime  of  rags,  on  prison  bread ; 

No  gallows'  baleful  shade  is  thrown 

Where  Law  makes  Life  its  wrongs  atone, 

And  Mercy  sits  in  Justice  throne. 

Crime  scarce  exists  where  Idleness, 
Source  of  all  ills,  meets  just  duress, 
For  venom  from  the  poisoned  brain 
Toil's  beaded  drops  will  swiftly  drain ; 
Brave  muscle,  trained  to  honest  work, 
For  robbery  disdains  to  lurk. 

Law  over  Man  omnipotent, 
Upon  the  race  has  forced  content, 
Has  granted  Agur's  prayer,  refused 
For  ages  while  he  Heaven  amused ; 
Soon  answered  when  the  Socialist, 
Changed  begging  palm,  to  forceful  fist. 


Persuasion  supersedes  Force.  813 

In  that  glad  land,  no  drones  survive  ; 
For  joyful  earth  is  Labor's  hive. 
There  Liberty  no  limit  knows 
Save  in  the  duties  that  it  owes ; 
And  each  man's  freedom  has  no  bounds 
Save  when  on  others'  rights  it  trends. 
Man-eaters  fly  that  happy  shore, 
For  Usury's  griping  reign  is  o'er. 

There  the  Inventor  sees  his  pain 

Rewarded  in  his  fellows'  gain, 

And  freely  scatters  wide  the  prize 

From  Nature  won,  by  thoughtful  eyes, 

Feeling  the  pleasure  of  a  God, 

To  know  he  's  lightened  Labor's  load. 

There  lengthened  life  the  wisdom  showers 

On  Man,  which  long  experience  stores, 

And  bloom  must  venerate  age,  whose  mind 

Ne'er  casts  reluctant  look  behind ; 

For  all  vitality  of  youth 

Glows  in  gray  heads  that  seek  but  truth. 

Where  Love's  Lawgiver,  women  rule 

Man  to  his  baby  goes  to  school, 

And  learns  to  ope  the  wondering  eyes 

Of  Reason  on  the  mysteries 

Of  Life  and  Fate,  and  painful  spells 

What  heart,  that  with  Love's  current  swells 

Reads  easily  as  a  b  c, 

Kissing  her  dandled  deity, 

Lisping  the  lore  of  Heaven  to  pay 

Her  nectar-brimming  roundelay. 

21 


314  After  the  deluge — Ararat. 

No  language  can  that  age  adorn, 
Which  sees  a  new  Messiah  born 
In  every  child  whose  instincts  rise 
Thro'  progress  to  the  waiting  skies ; 
There  Man  has  bowed  to  Nature's  sway 
And  learned  "  To  Labor,  is  to  Pray." 

Utopian  fool !  Let  dullards  sneer, — 
Man  needs  but  will,  that  Land  is  here. 
For  Labor  in  fraternal  force 
To-day  might  follow  Mammon's  hearse, 
If,  free  from  Faith  and  Appetite, 
Reason  aid  Nature's  tireless  fight. 

Let  him  but  know  that  any  change 

Gives  hope  a  freer,  wider  range, 

That  even  defeat  can  add  no  bane 

To  the  unending,  gnawing  pain 

He  must  endure  thro'  Mammon's  reign, 

The  turbid  waters  of  the  deep 

Will  from  their  rocky  caverns  leap, 

To  meet  the  angry  torrents  thrown 

Thro'  Heaven's  wide  oriels  oped  to  drown 

With  the  blent  wrath  of  Man  and  God, 

Earth  crazed  by  Creed,  consumed  by  Fraud, 

Behold  his  Ararat  appears 

Quick  rising  thro'  the  surging  years, 

And  o'er  it,  shimmering  rainbows  play 

God's  promise  of  a  brighter  day. 

Who  cannot  see,  in  Nature's  throe 
Is  force,  persistent,  born  of  woe. 


The  wrath  of  Nature  the  result  of  crime.       815 


The  foetid  breath  of  horrid  Wai- 
Pours  poisons  thro'  the  shuddering  air, 
As  over  earth  his  cohorts  drag 
Famine  and  fever,  cholera,  plague, 
To  glean  the  fields  from  which  his  wain 
Has  harvested  his  blasted  grain. 
And*  who  dare  say,  the  lava  stream 
That  rends  her  crust  with  lurid  gleam, 
To  whelm  the  town  whence  Hate's  flame  drained 
Love's  oxygen,  while  terror  reigned, 
As  monstrous  Crime,  from  caverns  dun 
Broke  rampant,  leaping  in  the  sun  ; 
The  earthquake's  wide  engulphing  wave 
Sweeping  a  coast  to  flooded  grave, 
So  washing  clean  with  vengeful  tide 
The  face  of  Nature,  grimed,  and  dyed 
By  sempiternal  fratricide ; 
The  forceful  hurricanes  that  blend 
With  earth  the  affrighted  clouds,  and  rend 
In  blind  destruction's  hideous  roar 
The  growth  of  centuries  in  an  hour ; 
Aye,  Arctic  snows,  and  torrid  heats, 
Whence  Nature-conquered  Man  retreats  ; 
Find  each  and  all,  no  parentage 
In  his  insane,  demoniac  rage. 

Force  indestructible,  of  Hate 
In  frenzied  souls,  may  generate 
The  kindred  force  that  fills  the  heart 
Of  Nature,  as  she  makes  her  sport 
In  sweeping  from  her  path  the  clown, 
Who  will  not   wear  her  proffered  crown. 


816  Intellect  limitless, 

Force  correlates,  and  who  dare  say 

That  under  Love's  continuous  sway 

Glad  Earth  would  not  grow  kind  and  sweet, 

To  be  a  habitation,  meet 

For  Man  in  Jesus'  simple  school 

Taught  how  to  live  the  "  Golden  Rule." 

Unstained  by  envy,  lust,  or  rage, 

More  gentle  in  his  hoary  age, 

Than  when  the  babe,  with  beaming  eyes 

Answered  his  mother's  ecstacies, 

As  rosy,  patting  palms  caressed 

The  violet  of  her  velvet  breast. 

No  miracle  can  Nature  know, 

But  higher  force  in  embryo 

Stirs  in  her  womb,  as  growth  destroys 

The  consequents  of  lower  laws. 

And  as  the  microscope  is  rife 

With  infinite  forms  of  lower  life, 

— Immensities  of  mysteries 

Even  in  a  rain-drop  man  descries, 

Unseen  by  dull  barbarian  eyes, — 

So  Reason  shows  to  quickened  mind 

A  Force  in  Nature,  far  beyond 

The  narrow  limits  thought  can  strain, 

Fettered  in  her  material  brain. 

Mind  knows  no  measure  ;  'tis  as  far 
From  soul  to  soul  as  star  to  star. 
Th'  immensities  within  unfold 
Wide  as  the  arches  that  uphold 
The  Universal  dome.     For  Man 
Earth's  only  God  in  Nature's  plan, 
What  line  can  Matter  use  to  span. 


Feeding  on  G-od.  317 


Mind  from  the  centre  grows;  its  root 
Draws  sap  from  God,  and  love  its  fruit, 
Repress,  distort,  or  crush,  or  blind, 
Man  may — he  cannot  form  a  mind. 
Of  matter  born,  it  must  revert 
Its  food  denied,  to  native  dirt. 
But  vital,  glowing  with  the  food 
It  blooms  on,  drawn  direct  from  God, 
What  tongue  has  matter  to  portray 
Its  fruit  that  cannot  know  decay  ; 
Where  find  the  words  to  frame  in  speech 
Its  ever  widening,  flowering  reach. 


Reason  can  only  inward  gaze, 

As  consequent  new  cause  displays, 

And  recognize  in  loving  awe 

The  changing  but  persistent  law, 

Which  thro'  all  Nature's  veins  must  course 

As  lower  yields  to  higher  force ; 

As  Nature  trills  the  requiem 

Of  brute  strength  touched  by  Love's  soft  palm, 


Science  can  backward  trace  the  day 
When  Man  on  Nature's  bosom  lay, 
The  weakest,  puniest,  most  abashed, 
Of  all  her  offspring  ;  'round  him  clashed 
Huge,  raging,  reckless  monsters,  mailed, 
None  shrank  from  conflict,  all  assailed ; 
War  was  earth's  normal  state, — no  love 
Save  what  in  his  base  intellect  strove 
And  gasping,  lived,  thro'  wild  debate 
Of  envy,  jealousy  and  hate, 
In  his  starved  soul,  so  close  akin 


818  The  infancy  of  Man. 


Was  he  to  the  uncouth  machine, 
One  in  its  selfishness,  tho'  shaped 
In  countless  forms  of  life,  that  gaped 
Its  rending  jaws,  that  death  might  wake 
Digested,  and  new  substance  take, 
Then  the  dread  increment  employ 
Again  to  ravage,  and  destroy. 

He  saw  her  elder  births  outvie 

His  knowledge,  skill,  and  energy, 

But  each  in  savage  solitude 

Prowled  for  its  prey,  and  gnawed  its  food, 

So  he,  gregarious,  banded,  slew 

The  monsters  no  one  dared  pursue. 

He  saw  himself  for  aeons  creep 

Upon  the  earth,  by  sufferance ;  sleep 

In  treetops  or  in  holes  encaved, 

His  life  a  fear,  by  terror  saved. 

His  little  spark  of  love  increased, 

He  grew  a  Socialist,  and  massed 

His  forces  for  the  long  affray 

'Twixt  life  and  death,  health  and  decay. 

For  self-defence,  at  first  he  fought, 
Then  gaining  courage,  foes  he  sought 
Even  in  their  lairs,  and  field  by  field, 
And  league  by  league  his  Empire  swelled. 

Earth  aids  his  efforts.     (She  abhorred 
The  rebels  that  opposed  her  lord.) 
And  with  a  changing  axis  clears 


His  growth  and  conquest.  319 


His  pathway  from  her  mutineers. 
Aye,  drowned  herself  for  love,  to  rise 
From  out  the  floods  with  glistening  eyes. 
Swimming  with  rapture,  as  she  saw 
Their  bloated  corpses  'venge  her  law. 
Then  purer  skies,  and  sweeter  air 
Gave  progress  force,  as  Man,  the  heir 
Of  all  she  earned  by  suicide, 
She  throned  supreme  in  laughing  pride. 

Now,  shall  the  Universal  King, 

His  arms,  his  trophies,  empire,  fling 

To  lycanthropes,  whose  banded  claws 

Tear  out  his  life  by  creeds,  and  laws ; 

Before  these  Frankensteins  he  made 

Soul-slayers  by  the  laws  of  Trade  ; 

Hew  out  a  cavern,  and  a  tomb 

For  thought,  and  leave  his  realm  in  gloom ; 

Forswear  his  birthright  and  abjure 

Its  laws  of  primogeniture. 


Is  he  Earth's  conqueror,  who  share 
Of  conflict  would  weak  courage  spare  ? 
Who  moans  about  a  wicked  world 
Safe  in  a  phalanstery  curled, 
And  from  its  fruitful  laziness, 
Blinks  sapient,  at  the  wilderness 
Where  man-made  monsters  supersede. 
The  fossil  foes  whose  jaws  affrayed 
His  weapons  when  their  gnashing  foam 
Flung  terror  thro'  his  childhood's  home. 
Who  sees  his  brothers  galled  and  torn, 


320  The  world-abjured s  treason. 

By  fell  machinery  overborne, 
And  begs  them  in  his  cave  to  hide 
Far  from  the  ken  and  clutch  of  pride. 
Who  cries,  "  Stir  not  the  fire  with  sword," 
"  Echo  in  storms  should  be  adored," 
Fly  from  the  world  and  leave  to  lust 
Nature's  donation  to  the  just  ? 

Who  as  he  into  pity  melts, 
Whines  of  a  kingdom  somewhere  else, 
Where  he,  who  proves  himself  unfit 
On  Earth  to  reign,  on  throne  may  sit 
Throughout  eternity,  and  date 
His  glory,  from  his  shamed  defeat. 

Pride's  slaves  would  quickly  garrison 
Man's  battle  field,  already  won. 
How  long  would  phalansteries  stand 
On  Mammon's  desolated  land  ? 
The  weaponless  on  earth  are  stalled, 
Or  dance  with  ankles  fetter-galled  ; 
No  children  Nature  grants  but  Huns, 
To  world  escaping  monks  and  nuns, 
For  Nature  at  a  coward  scares, 
And  Love  must  fight,  to  live  in  heirs. 

Is  he  Earth's  conquerer,  who  slinks 
Back  to  his  cave,  before  this  Sphynx  ? 
This  loveless  intellect,  bred  by  force, 
Its  limbs,  machines,  its  brains  a  purse, 
Its  head  the  Counting  House,  that  stares 
With  stony  eyes  at  sepulchers 


The  Sphynx  in  his  desert.  321 


It  robs  of  shroud  and  memory's  stone, 
Regretful  tear,  and  mourner's  moan. 
Its  body  those  who  're  filled  with  all 
That  appetite  can  please  or  pall 
Which  moveless,  unprogressive  lies, 
Flabby  with  lazy  luxuries, 
Fed  to  repletion  by  the  laws 
Revealed  in  profit-clutching  claws  ; 
Which  glares  across  a  world  of  sand, 
Unfertilized  by  its  command, 
To  guard  the  pyramids  which  cant 
For  power  has  built  on  human  want. 
This  fiend  that  gnaws  the  human  soul, 
That  hell  has  christened,  u Capital" 
Who  stands  as  Sentinel  for  Time 
O'er  all  the  hoards  of  legal  crime 
And  shivers  as  it  feels  the  breath 
Of  angry  Love  exhale  its  death. 


Not  he.     For  Nature  disavows 
Her  offspring,  if  she  see  his  brows 
Despoiled  of  majesty,  disgraced 
By  serfdom,  and  by  power  debased. 

An  Instinct  born  can  never  die. 
Man's  growth  demands  Fraternity  ; 
Fraternity  where  Greed  's  coerced, 
Fraternity  by  Law  enforced, 
By  that  he's  glad  earth's  potentate  : 
By  that  he  '11  conquer  human  hate. 
What  can  oppose  his  empire,  or 
Resist,  the  grand  Self-Conqueror  ! 


322  "Rise  and  Walk." 


That  little  spark  of  Love  's  a  flame 
Beyond  the  power  of  lust  to  tame. 
It  shall  the  world  of  mind  baptise 
To  higher  aims  and  new  emprise, 
Vengeance  is  but  wronged  Nature's  flood, 
Which  drowns  the  base  and  thrones  the  good, 
'Tis  God  in  Man  upholds  the  fight. 
Else  how  could  Love  quell  Hatred's  might. 

The  palsy-smitten,  helpless  lay 

Nor  would  his  limbs  his  thought  obey, 

As  normal  strength's  electric  leap 

Though  drowsy  nerves  could  scarcely  creep. 

Till  Will  their  torpor  broke  and  sent 

The  brain's  swift  force  to  its  intent. 

No  fears  need  Man1  s  fruition  balk 

'Tis  G-od  has  spoken,  "Rise  and   Walk." 


THE  FESTIVAL  OF  DEATH. 


Death  held  a  Festival,  and  called 

His  vassals  round  his  throne  ; 
Prostrate  before  their  King  they  sprawled, 

And  showed  their  trophies  won. 

Within  his  low-arched,  coffin-shaped, 

Noisome,  sepulchral  hall, 
The  dismal,  stenchful  horrors,  gaped 

At  its  long  table's  spoil. 

'Twas  framed  of  molten,  burnished  gold, 

Inlaid  with  skulls  and  bones 
Mossy  with  age,  and  green  with  mold, 

All  set  as  precious  stones. 

« 
Lit  by  the  shimmering  gloom  that  pales 

From  phosphorous  decay, 

Each  minister  of  Hate  regales 

Upon  his  neighbor's  prey. 

Each  clutched  at  cates  beyond  his  reach  ; 

Oft  in  one  dish  their  claws 
All  met,  as  each  made  haste  to  snatch 

A  tit-bit  for  his  jaws. 


324  The  Festival  of  Death. 


a  Ho  !    War,"  the  monarch  cried,  "  What  hast 
Thou,  my  tried  liegeman,  to  report  ? 

The  vultures, — have  they  had  their  feast, 
As  Kings  engaged  in  royal  sport?" 

u  Scant  fare,  my  liege ;  in  Africa 
Some  thousands,  British  and  Zulu — 

Some  Afghans,  too,  are  turned  to  clay, 
Some  sped  from  Chili  and  Peru." 

But  here,  my  sisters,  't  were  a  stain 

Should  they  receive  my  meed  of  praise, 

For  gleaning  fields  from  which  my  wain 
Rich  harvests  dragged  to  glut  thy  jaws. 

"  Fear  not,  my  trusty;  well  We  know 
They  fatten  on  the  food  you  leave. 

Hail,  Carrion-Maker  !  thy  first  blow 
Did  my  first  gain  on  earth  achieve." 

ktAnd  I,"  screamed  Famine,  "  this  year  toiled 

In  Cnina,  Egypt  and  Brazil ; 
Millions  of  happy  hearths  I  've  spoiled 

Wherein  my  brothers  shewed  no  skill  I" 

"  Behind  them  both,  with  sister's  love," 

Bawled  Pestilence,  "  I  've  searching,  prowled, 

And  to  thy  realm  in  myriads  drove 
The  refuse  of  the  lands  they  fouled." 

Then  bloated  Vice  sprang  out  and  cried, 
"  My  prey  I  've  found  beyond  their  reach. 


The  Festival  of  Death.  825 


They  strike  the  low,  I  rend  the  proud  ; 
Let  Suicide  attend  my  speech." 

"  Hear  all  diseases  born  of  me, 

Their  mother's  loyalty  declare, 
Glutting  themselves  on  progeny, 

Which  I  with  poisoned  blood  prepare." 

Crime  cursed — "  I  've  been  with  all  the  rest ; 

With  me  they  work,  though  Law  denies, 
And  steals  their  laurels  from  my  crest, 

As  Glory,  Murder  sanctifies. 

"  Yet  loyal  am  I  to  my  king  ; 

Each  year  adds  increase  to  my  slaves. 
See  !  I  my  annual  off 'ring  bring, 

Increasing  as  Law  fiercer  raves." 

Death's  rattling  jaws  attest  his  glee, 
As  their  grim  records  prove  their  zeal. 

"  Step  forth,  my  youngest  born  !  "  cried  he, 
"  We  wait,  impatient,  for  your  tale." 

Smooth  gliding  upon  slippered  feet, 
With  greasy  face,  lack-lustre  smile, 

With  low-toned,  creeping  voice,  as  meet 
For  him  who  lives  by  legal  guile. 

Trade-Competition  made  advance 
Before  the  eager-hearkening  throng, 

Each  felt  contempt  in  every  glance 
His  dead  eye  on  their  weapons  flung. 


326  The  Festival  of  Death. 

44  Short-lived  are  they,  whose  hollow  eyes 
Search  hopelessly  to  find  a  trace 

Thro'  all  my  swarming  factories, 

Hell's  proudest  universities 

Of  Bounty's  hand,  or  Pity's  face." 

"Ah !  He  's  myself,"  howled  War;  44his  eye 
Like  mine,  is  always  cold  and  dry." 

44 1  herd  them  close  in  low-ceiled  rooms, 
I  twist  them  with  routine  of  Toil, 

I  force  them  tire  my  whirring  looms, 

I  shelter  them  by  night  in  tombs, 

Garbage  their  bread  and  grease  their  oil." 

44  He  's  in  my  house,"  screamed  Pestilence. 
44  Oh  !  Sister,  sniff  his  balmy  scents." 

44  From  work  that  starves  I  see  them  fly 

To  brothel,  beggary  and  jail, 
At  less  than  Nature's  cost  I  buy 
Man,  fed  and  sheltered,  I  defy, 

And  Bankrupt  always,  never  fail." 

44  That's  me  !  "  squeaked  Famine  ;  u  I  also 
Am  fullest  when  I  emptiest  show  !  " 

44 1  keep  a  shop  upon  the  mart 

That's  thickest  thronged.     I  undersell  ! 

All  Science  aids  me  and  all  Art. 

With  rich  Thrift  I  my  profits  part 

Who  throngs  when  e'er  he  hears  my  yell." 


The  Festival  of  Death.  327 


Tis  I !"  shrieked  Vice ;  "I  halve  the  gold 
When  Virtue  's  in  the  market  sold." 

4'  Cheaper  than  cheapest !     Loud  I  roar, 

Until  Economy  's  dismayed, 
And  poor  men  throng  my  widening  door 
Whose  saving  robs  the  other  poor, 

By  whom  their  cheapened  goods  were  made." 

"  Me  !"  grumbled  Crime;  "his  step,  his  air, 
His  tongue,  voice,  gesture,  all  declare 
Me  !  Lo,  his  smile  is  murder's  sheath, 
My  lineage  is  he  not,  O  !  Death? " 

Death  answer  croaked,  "  The  thin  disguise 
That  solemn  leering  Law  applies 
Screens  you,  in  him,  from  Justice'  arm; 

As  4  Profit'  lulls  her  ear 
His  victim  falls,  and  no  alarm 

Rings  from  his  plodding  bier. 

"  'Tis  Noise  makes  sleepy  Justice  rave, 
And  "  Profit"  digs  a  quiet  grave, 
As  dust  Man  on  her  balance  lies 

When  gold  upon  the  scale 
Outweighs  his  murmuring  miseries, 

And  jeers  his  puling  wail. 

"We  know  you  as  we  champ  the  fruit 
Of  Thrift,  and  taste  its  sapful  root." 


828  The  Festival  of  Death. 


War  stroked  his  broad  clothed  arm,  half-dazed 
To  see  its  strength  his  engines  mock  ; 

Famine  caressed  him,  as  amazed 
She  saw  men  die  of  Over-stock. 

Blotched  Pestilence  hugged  him,  as  she  smelt 

Her  foetid  odors  in  his  coat, 
And  Vice,  with  stranger  rapture  felt 

Her  veiled  glance  on  him,  side-long  gloat. 

Crime  at  his  feet  sat,  pondering  scheme 

How  to  a  palace  change  his  cell ; 
From  all  Hell's  weaker  brood  a  scream 

Of  joy  did  through  the  cavern  peal. 

Death's  bony  hands  clapped  loud  applause 
As  each  fiend  yelled,   "He  's  mine!    He  's 


mine 


He  's  blent  with  me  by  Human  Laws, 
His  triumphs  are  of  my  design." 

Yet  louder  clangor  broke,  when  Death— 
"  In  him  I  have  combined  you  all  ! 

The  Poor  are  meat  for  Luxury's  teeth, 
And  Man  again  is  Cannibal!" 


THE   BEGGAR. 


Toil-bent,  decrepid,  old  and  gaunt, 

With  shaking  head, — hair,  thin  and  white, 

Gross-featured,  marred  by  vice  and  want. 
Behold  his  fellows  shun  the  sight 

Think  jostling  on  the  crowded  pave, 
Nor  note  him,  abject,  vermin-rife, 

Dumbly,  importunately  crave 

A  few  more  days  of  tottering  life. 

To  his  eyes,  rheumy,  bleared,  half-blind, 
Remote  and  indistinct  the  throng ; 

His  ears  no  differ  apprehend 

'T \vixt  plaint  of  pain  and  joyous  song. 

What  was  his  life,  whose  greasy  hat 
Gapes  thus,  to  earn  his  bitter  bread  ? 

This  blur  on  sunny  days,  whose  lot 
Is  hungry  dotage,  garbage  fed. 

This  product  of  a  teeming  land 

Where  squalor  must  bejborn  of  crime  ; 

Whose  misery  drives  him  thus  to  vend 
For  charity  his  rags  and  grime. 

His. occupation  marks  each  inan, 
The  plastic  body  yields  to  use  ; 

22 


330  The  Beggar. 


Each  toiler  bears  his  trade-mark  plain, 
Nature's  revenge  for  life's  abuse. 

On  this  decayed  and  shapeless  wreck 

Is  graven  deep  the  life  he  led ; 
Unequal  shoulders,  awry  neck, 

A  high-drawn  calf,  on  leg  unfed. 

His  pliant  thumb  and  prone-held  palm, 
Extensors  strong  and  flexors  weak, 

His  indrawn,  callous  knees,  shrunk  ham, 
Of  long  hours  over-working  speak. 

Reveal  a  worn  out  shoe-shop  wright, 

Society  has  cast  away, 
Dead  in  all  else,  but  appetite 

Insatiate  as  the  gulfing  sea. 

The  bulbous  nose,  the  shapeless  mouth, 
The  scars  which  drunken  riot  gave, 

The  blood-shot  eyes,  aglow  with  drouth, 
Show  him,  of  Alcohol  the  slave. 

He  should  have  saved  his  hard-earned  wage  ? 

His  brain,  dulled  by  incessant  toil, 
Lost  forecast  to  provide  for  age, 

Robbed  of  all  power  of  self-control. 

From  us  temptation  be  removed 

Should  be,  not  prayer  for  Man, — but  Law. 
For  self-defence  too  weak  he  proved, 

His  scant  wage  fed  his  tempter's  maw. 


The  Beggar.  331 


Where  Crime  is  legal,  there  is  Hell ; 

Here,  where  Law's  brutal  segis  fends 
Who  poisons  to  their  fellows  sell, 

Love's  eyes  behold  a  race  of  fiends 

Furloughed  a  space  to  deal  in  rum, 
And  fit  their  victims  for  despair, 

While  saints,  excited,  buzz  and  hum, 

And  strive  to  wash  them  clean  by  prayer. 

Who  enters,  bids  adieu  to  hope  ; 

So  see  the  blind,  dazed  blighted  soul, 
Shorn  of  angelic  kinship,  grope 

Down  to  the  second  death,  his  goal. 

While  the  fat  banker  drones  his  psalms 
And  gloats  o'er  fatter  dividends, 

Besotted  Labor's  horny  palms 
Applaud  him  leader  of  mankind. 

His  wealth  by  usury  exacts 

From  Labor's  plunderers  equal  shares, 
His  pious  character  protects 

In  sanctity  of  law  their  lairs. 

They  who,  untoiling  live  on  Toil 

Our  drones,  control  and  rule  our  hive, 

Can  Man,  when  robbed  of  Nature's  spoil 
Under  their  law  and  guidance  thrive  ! 

Thus  blinks  with  its  lack-lustre  eye 
In  doting  age,  Law's  finished  job, 


332  The  Beggar. 


Millions  of  prayers  may  storm  the  sky, 
They  're  worthless  as  a  baby's  sob. 

Ye  workers  who  behold  this  hulk 

Wrecked  on  fell  Mammon's  sterile  strand, 

By  licensed  crime  and  overwork 
Extend  for  alms  its  palsied  hand. 

To  the  deaf  Heavens  no  longer  pray 
To  right  your  wrongs  or  aid  your  right, 

Your  sturdy  arms  can  hew  their  way 

From  these  dark  glooms  to  cheerful  light. 

From  this  grim  foetid  lesson  learn 

The  power  that  holds  you  under  sway  : 

With  votes  as  levers  overturn 

This  head  of  gold  and  feet  of  clay. 

At  croaking  fossils  laugh  in  scorn 

Who  dread  your  use  of  power  you  take, 

And  you  of  ills  unnumbered  warn 
Should  Mammon's  brazen  altar  shake. 

Lest  your  doom  be  this  bitter  end 

Rend  from  his  grasping  hand  his  spoil. 

Love  will  be  Victor  when  the  fiend 

Yields  to  Free  Men,  their  right,  Free  Soil. 


UNDER   THE    HARROW. 


Life  is  hopeless.     I  'm  hungry  and  poor  ; 

My  wages  won't  furnish  me  food  ; 
And  this  foetid  and  poisonous  air 

Is  mildewing  me, — tainting  my  blood. 

My  children  grow  stunted  and  thin, 
Gaunt,  bony  and  scraggy  my  wife  ; 

The  vile  tenement-house  I  live  in 
Is  buzzing  with  discord  and  strife. 

And  must  we,  the  creators  of  wealth, 
Starve  amid  the  abundance  we  earn, 

While  our  babes,  bred  in  squalor  and  filth 
To  thieves,  pimps  and  prostitutes  turn  ? 

Are  my  ills  from  God  or  from  Man  ? 

Did  I  sin  when  I  loved  and  begot, 
That  my  children  lie  under  a  ban, 

And  my  wife  is, — as  wife  of  a  sot  ? 

What  was  it  the  Crucified  meant 

When  to  men  of  glad  tidings  he  spoke, 

That  they  of  their  food  or  their  raiment 
No  thought  for  the  morrow  should  take. 

Don't  we  make  our  own  chains  by  the  law, 
Granting,  "  Profit  "  and  Usury  spoil 


334  Under  the  Harrow. 

Of  the  wealth  that  we  painfully  draw 
From  the  desert  of  earth  by  our  toil? 

Well !  the  galley-slave  chained  to  the  oar 
Broods  vengeance  while  under  the  whip  : 

In  his  dreams,  revels,  lapping  hot  gore, 
When  awake,  plans  to  scuttle  the  ship. 

When  men  suffer  shipwreck  afloat 

Cruel  days  on  the  pitiless  main, 
Share  and  share  to  each  man  in  the  boat 

The  scant  store  is  portioned  in  pain. 

The  wretch  not  a  Socialist  then, 

But  found  munching  his  secreted  hoard, 

With  stern  jeers  would  be  tossed  in  the  brine, 
And  his  victual  divided  aboard. 

The  world  suffers  shipwrecks  in  trade, 

While  its  lockers  are  bursting  with  bread  : 

Stokers  starved,  and  the  passengers  cloyed ! 
Must  we  be  mutineers  to  be  fed  f 


THE   LOGICAL   CATERPILLAR. 

to  Hon.  J.  Medill 


Upon  a  green  and  luscious  leaf 

A  caterpillar  sat, 
And  passed  a  cheerful,  happy  life, 

Accumulating  fat, 
And  gazed  with  appetizing  glee 
Upon  the  tall  and  spreading  tree, 
Its  gorgeous  wealth  of  rustling  green, 
Irradiate  with  shimmering  sheen. 

"All  this,"  the  caterpillar  said, 

"Was  made  for  me  alone  ; 
To  furnish  me  in  food  'twas  made  ; 

What  I  can't  eat,  I  own. 
And  God  who  gave  it  will  direct 
Me,  the  best  manner  to  protect 
The  goods  his  boundless  bounty  gave, 
From  every  hungry,  tramping  knave." 

Below  him,  crawling  in  the  dust, 

A  grovelling  centipede  — 
Wailing,  "  I  cannot  think  it  just, 

All  that,  to  feed  his  greed  ; 
While  I,  who  can  assimilate 
As  well  as  he,  the  leaves  I  eat 
Must  perish  in  this  hopeless  plight 

Unable  to  obtain  a  bite. 


336  The  Logical  Caterpillar. 

"  I  wither  in  this  heated  sand, 

O  !  give  me  but  a  leaf ! 
The  God  of  Love  requites  the  hand 

That  brings  the  poor,  relief." 
The  caterpillar's  eyes  were  damp 
With  pity  as  he  gave  the  tramp 
A  strychnined  leaf,  and  saw  him  die 
In  wiggling,  wriggling  agony. 

"  He  's  better  dead," 

The  mourner  said, 
"And  so  may  all  tramps  die  ; 

But  as  for  me, 

I  '11  eat  this  tree 
And  be  a  butterfly." 


FORWARD! 


Blind  paths  we  poor  mortals  wearily  wander  on  ; 

Whither  we  go,  no  wisdom  can  foresee ; 
Naught  in  the  record  of  ages  to  ponder  on, 

Our  future  the  sage  has  no  data  to  prophecy. 

When  erst,  in  the  strife  decimating  the  Nation, 
We    blazoned  our    banners    with  "  Freedom    for 

All!" 

Did  we  fight  to  submit  to  this  last  degradation, 
To,  supine  and  nerveless,  before  traitors  fall  ? 
Has  God,  in  stern  justice,  laid  on  us  the  curse, 
That  each  struggle  for  Progress  shall  leave  us  the 
worse  ? 

Have  we  painfully  waded  in  gloom  and  despond, 
Through  that  Red  Sea,  to  reach   Freedom's  mirage 
beyond  ? 

But  to  crouch  once  again 

'Neath  these  traders  in  men, 
And  sigh  in  dull  patience,  while  Liberty's  hearse 

Is  trailed  to  her  grave 

By  the  hands  of  a  knave — 

White-blooded,  bound-thrall  of  the    power  of  the 
Purse  ? 

But  to  herd  in  dismay  on  this  pestilent  shore, 
Nauseated  and  faint  with  the  odor  of  gore, 
Where  the  Bulldozer's  whip  whistles  shrill  in  the  air, 
And  its  dull  thud  responds  to  a  Patriot's  prayer  ? 


338  Forward! 


(The  weapon  which  forced  from  the  hard  hands  of 

Toil 

Unpaid  labor  of  men,  like  dumb  beasts  of  the  stall, 
Now  drags  from  the  Freedman's  hoarse,  unwilling- 
throat, 

'Mid  shrieks  unavailing,  a  promise  to  vote.) 
Like  a  flock,  when  at  midnight  the  wolf's  howl  is  near. 
Stand  we  trembling,  appalled  and  exsanguine,  with 

fear, 

While  the  halls  of  our  servants  resound  with  that  yell 
Which  from  hearts  bursting  hate  rings  the  echoes  of 
Hell? 

No !  Beyond  these  bleak  deserts 

This  serf-accursed  soil, 
Lies  the  Promised  Land,  brimming 

With  wine  and  with  oil, 
Where  swords  are  beat  to  plowshares — 

Spears  pruning  hooks  are  made, — 
Where,  'neath  their  teeming  vines  and  figs, 

In  dulcet  summer-shade, 
Rest  the  heroes  who  creating  wield 

The  hammer  and  the  spade, — 
No  prowling  packs  of  hell-hounds 

To  molest  or  make^  afraid  ; 
Where  the  calcium-light  of  a  free  press 

Throws  the  broad  glare  of  day 
On  the  dense  darkness  which  conceals 

These  ravening  beasts  of  prey  ! 
Where  Freedmen  shall  be  Freemen, 

And  Labor,  in  its  might, 
Shall  use  for  dung  the  trampled  corse 

Of  the  dog  that  yowls  at  Right. 


Forward!  339 


Can  we  reach  it? — We  can.     Will  we  reach  it? — 

We  must. 
For  the  blood  of  our  martyrs  calls  fierce  from  their 

dust  : 

4%  Ye  are  craven  to  suffer  serf-labor  to  till 
Where  we  lie  unshrouded  at  Andersonville." 

Answer  their  angry  frowning  shades 

With  a  ringing,  loud  Hurrah ! 
Hurrah  !  Hurrah  !  for  Freemen's  rights, 

For  Honor,  and  for  Law  ! 

— In  all  conflicts  of  the  ages, 

It  the  Patriot's  pulse  has  stirred, 
Like  ocean's  grand  resounding  surge, 

It  purifies  the  world. 
'Tis  Freedom's  diapason  in 

The  harmon}^  of  Law, 
Its  echoes  swell  through  fainting  hearts 

As  flame  through  tindered  straw. 
When  Rupert's  Horse  went  right  about 

It  answered  Cromwell's  cry 
"  With  bayonets  !  Boys  !     Trust  in  the  Lord  ! 

And  keep  your  powder  dry  !" 
Thro'  the  long  Winter's  night  it  broke 

Above  the  ceaseless  dirge 
That  crooned  around  their  shivering  ranks 

Who  starved  at  Valley  Forge. 
Its  might  re-formed  the  shattered  files 

That  turned  with  Sheridan, 
And  tramped  to  victory  thro'  defeat 

Across  the  crimsoned  plain. — 


340  Forward! 


Aye  !  drown  with  joyous,  hearty  cheers, 

The  piping  catawaul 
Which  squeals  its  feeble  frenzied  wrath 

Against  our  Northern  gale. 
They  did  not  fear  it  when  it  shrieked 

From  half  a  million  throats, 
But  put  it  down  with  might  and  main 

When  bayonets  were  votes  ! 
Now  shall  the  van  of  Progress  be 

Affrighted  or  dismayed, 
When  Rebel  shrieks  in  dismal  squeaks 

Call  us  to  retrograde  ? 

No  backward  step  !  but  Forward ! 

Until,  in  every  State, 
All  the  people,  for  the  people, 

By  the  people  legislate, 
And  unrelenting  Justice  yield 

Unknown,  unpitied  graves 
To  the  carcasses  of  traitors 

Who  Freemen  treat  as  slaves. 


THE    ENGINE    AND   THE    "  COO. 


A  man  of  the  people  once  telling  his  tale 

Of  the  power  of  his  engine  when  placed  on  the  Rail, 

Of  the  speed  it  would  make,  of  the  freight  it  would 

pull, 
Was  asked  by  a  solemn  old  fossil  John  Bull : 

"  But  what,  my  dear  sir,   would   the    consequence 

prove, 

Should  a  cow  on  the  track  ever  happen  to  rove, 
And  the  wagons,  impelled  at  this  furious  speed,    . 
Should     happen, — good   ged !     with   that    cow    to 

collide  ?  " 

The  sturdy  old  cove  with  contemptuous  grin, 
Thro'  his  hard  visage  gleaming  the  chuckle  within, 
Said  "  Me  Lord, — in  sic  case  I  maun  surely  alloo, 
'Twad  be  bad  for  the  coo,  sir,  dom'd  bad  for  the  coo." 

*  ******  * 

Thro'  the  smoke  of  the  battles,  the  storm  clouds  of 

war, 

Gleams  refulgent,  the  head-light  of  Liberty's  car, 
As  it  speeds  o'er  the  track  whose  each  sleeper  and 

tie 
Marks  the  grave  of  a  hero,  for  her  glad  to  die. 


342  The  Engine  and  the  "Coo." 

And  the  train  rolls  behind  with  a  thunderous  speed, 
With   its   freight  of  the  people,    the    free    and  the 

freed  ; 
Earth's   nations  aroused    hail  its   gleam    thro'    the 

gloom, 
While  its  beacons  the  pathway  of  progress  illume. 

Will  it  stop  when  the  steam  driving   onward    the 

train 

Is  raised  from  the  blood  of  our  hecatombs  slain  ? 
While  the  Tank  is  the  hearts  of  a  million  of  men 
Who  their  lives  offered  once,  and  are  ready  again  ? 

Will  it  stop  for  the  cravens   who  stand  on  its  track, 
And  howl  execrations  to  frighten  it  back  ? 
No  !  brawny  old  worker,  your  story  was  true  ; 

'Twill  be  bad  for  the  coo, — yes  !  d d  bad  for  the 

coo ! 


THE   EXILE    OF   ERIN'S   VIEW  OF   HAYES' 
POLICY. 


Pat. — "  Fwhat's  the  matther  wid  the  naygurs 
That  the  abolition  beggars 
Are  growlin  at  the  govermint, 
An'  blaggardin  the  prisidint?" 

Dennis. — "  A  parable  I  '11  till  you,  Pat, 

An'  iv  you  've  brains,  fin'  out  from  that. 

— Aich  prairie  dog  his  fate  bewails 

Bekays  of  schnakes  wid  jinglin  tails 

Sornin'  upon  'em, — aitin  up 

Wid  appetite  aieh  frisky  pup, 

Claimiii'  the  burrow  law  recites 

How  dogs  wid  schnakes  have  aiqual  rights. 

"A  paceful  an  judgmatic  owl, 
Hearin'  the  dogs'  dishgraceful  howl, 
— An  owl  the  dogs  thimselves  select 
Their  rights  in  burrows  to  protect — 
Argues  wid  them — 4  you  musht  agree 
To  live  wid  schnakes  in  harmony  ; — 
I  've  give  your  case  a  careful  hearin', 
There  is  no  use  in  interferin', 
For  pace  an  quiet,  thin,  fill  up 
Aich  dishcontintid  shnake  wid  pup. — 
All  live  on  what  they  can  digest, 
This  primal  truth  musht  be  confessed, 


344     The  Exile  of  Erin's  View  of  Hayes'  Policy. 

Pups  are  to  schnakes,  as  grass  to  yon, 

This  is  the  comprehinsive  view. 

If  aiqual  rights  to  all  pertain 

Why  should  the  schnakes'from  pups  abstain  ? 

"Pis  hard  on  pups,  but  Nachure's  law 

Wid  wakelins  fills  the  sthronger's  maw, 

Lisht  to  the  wurruds  that  wishdoom  spakes 

An'  dishregard  the  puppies'  squakes.' 

— The  dogs  heard  this  in  dumb  amaze, 

The  schnakes  wid  great  content  an  praise." 

So  Dennis  spake,  and  Pat  replied 

— "  I  undherstan'  the  truths  implied, 

Our  go  vermin  t  resh  trains  its  foorce 

Nor  interferes  wid  Nachure's  coorse. 

Good  ordher  reigns  where  Stringth  is  Right ; 

The  naygur  must  obey  the  white  ; 

An'  aich  thrue  patriot  musht  admire 

The  shot-gun  supersade  the  squire."    . 


HAYES'   POLICY. 

The  Modern   Paul. 

You  inquiah  ray  opinion  ob  de  status 
Ob  de  collud  pop'lation  ob  de  Souf ; 

I  'se  esplain,  vvid  a  drop  ob  de  afflatus, 

'Case  I  'se  suffrin  in  my  innards  wid  a  drouf. 

'Taint  as  quenchin'  as  the  big  pine  apple  bowls 
On  de  Sabba  day  ole  Massa  use  to  gib, 

Wen  I'se  sweatin'  wid  de  laborin  fo  souls, 
An'  a  preachin'  wot  de  niggah  mus'  belieb. 

I  'se  a  preacha  ob  de  gospel  in  de  days 
Wen  de  niggah  was  a  anemile  to  sell, 

How  dey  'd  shout,  and  dah  kinky  wool  ud  raise, 
Wen  I  'se  'scribin  ob  de  agony  of  hell. 

Wha  dey  'd  go,  ef .  dey  did'n  min'  de  tex 
How  de  sahben  de  massa  must  obey, 

How  de  Lohd,  'cep  de  missus  dey  respecs 
Would  sizzle  'em  foreber  an  a  day. 

De  oberseer  was  easy  wid  dis  chile, 

Fo  my  summons  saved  him  wearin  out  de  cat, 
I  was  slick  den,  an  happy  all  de  wile, 

Now  dis  libbuty  has  tooken  all  de  fat. 

But  I  tinks  Massa  Hayes  '11  bring  it  roun, 
Dem  happy  days  will  come  again  to  me, 
23 


346  Hayes'  Policy— The  Modern  Paul. 

Wen  de  dahkies  heah  de  gospel  trumpet  soun, 
And  quit  singin  ob  de  Yeah  of  Jubilee. 

Ob  couse  I  is  a  nigga  in  de  skin, 

But  my  sentimens  an  feelins,  dey  is  wite, 

Focht  up  in  "  High-tone"  family  to  begin, 
An  eddicate  to  understan  wats  right. 

An  I  belieb  de  Bible  wha  it  says, 

How  Ole  Noahob  Ham's  conduc  did  complain. 
You  jess  bet  youah  bottom  dolla,  Massa  Hayes 

Helps  de  Lohd,  in  dis  cussin  of  Canaan. 

By  dis  policy  ob  Hayes  you  understan 

Dat  de  shot  gun  ob  de  white  folks  bahsde  rule, 

You  pussieves  I  'se  a  comprehensive  man, 
An  I  comprehens  de  wukkins  ob  dat  tool. 

De  folks  dat  has  de  shot  gun  had  de  cat, 
So  dey  says,  you  Boanerges  now  pitch  in, 

An  sarbe  out  Jonah  gospel  doctrine  hot, 
So  you  sabes  us  dis  powda  wastin  sin. 

I  espounds,  den,  de  meanin  ob  de  Wud, 
How  all  de  powahs  dat  be  are  ahdained, 

Dat  resistin  em  's  resistin  ob  de  Lohd, 

An  de  goverment  had  ort  to  be  sustained. 

So  de  shot  gun  gibs  five  votes  in  the  Souf, 
What  de  cat  didn  gone  to  hab  but  free, 

And  de  powah  of  my  eloquential  mouf 
'Shoos  de  triumph  ob  de  Hayes  policy. 


TWO  SURVIVORS  DISCUSS  HAYES'  POLICY, 


Scipio. — Cuffee  !  you  min's  dem  dismal  nights 

We  dassent  sleep  at  home, 
'Cause  wen  we  vote  fo'  equal  rights 

We  'se  feared  the  Ku-Klux  come  ? 
You  min's  wen  Sam  was  wipped  to  def 

We  wid  his  pluck  were  'maze, 
Because  dat  wid  his  dyin'  bref 

He  'd  vote  fo  Massa  Hayes  ? 

You  min's  we  could  n't  get  no  wuk 

Unless  we  'd  sign  de  roll, 
And  ebery  nig  was  out  ob  luck 

Widout  he'd  pledge  his  poll  ? 
We  tought  ef  we  'd  unite  ouahsefs 

An  Massa  Hayes  elec', 
He  'd  make  de  wite  folks  have  deahsefs 

And  cullud  folks  protec'. 

Now  arter  all  de  fuss  we  'se  had, 

De  starbin  an  de  shame, 
De  brack  man's  treated  jess  as  bad ; 

— Ain't  somebody  to  blame  ? 
Dat  showah  was  not  big  enough 

Eben  to  lay  de  dus', 
Now,  ef  you  can,  explain  it,  Cuff, 

An  lem  me  know  de  wus'. 


348         Two  Survivors  discuss  Hayes'  Policy. 

Cuffee. — W'a's  de  provub  dat  you  read 
'Bout  de  frens  ob  folks  in  need, 
How  dey  leabs  him  to  hisself, 
An  assoshumates  wid  welf. 
Wat  de  prophet  says  ob  men 
'S  jess  as  true  heah  now,  as  den  ; 
When  his  bruddahs  hate  de  poah 
You  knows  whar  Hayes  is  libin,  suah. 

An  dah's  anuder  provub,  chile, 
De  sinnah  lubs  de  lips  of  guile, 
De  liah  gives  a  greedy  eah, 
To  wat  he  from  de  wicked  heah  : 
An  Massa  Hayes  he  lub  de  poah, 
But  he  lubs  de  office  moah. 
He  done  got  up  on  tuddah  side 
Else  dey  wouldn'  let  him  ride. 

You  min  youah  wuk,  an  go  to  school, 

De  han  ob  diligence  bars  rule, 

An  shet  youah  mouf,  fo  fools'  discourse 

Ony  makes  dah  case  de  wuss. 

Lahn  ob  wisdom,  Scip,  an  lissen, 

Whar's  de  cat  de  mice  am  missen; 

Wen  de  fox  is  at  de  ruddah 

Speak  him  fahrly,  my  deah  brudder. 


ON  THE   MEMORIAL   MASS   REFUSED  THE 
LIVERPOOL   FENIANS. 


I  'm  tould,  Bishop  Duggan,  of  Hell's  crakin  dures 
From  Saint  Pether  direct  you  reseave'd  the  kay, 

And   that  it   ud  require   a   shmall   stretch   of  yer 

pooers 
To  opin  thim  wide  av  some  masses  you  'd  say. 

I  'm  tould,  too,  that  schreechin'  an  scorchin'  widin, 
A-toashtin  by  divils  the  twelmonth  last  past 

Are  some  frinds  av  me  own,  an  their  principal  sin 
Was, — thryin'  to  free  poor  ould  Ireland  too  fasht. 

I  'm  tould,  too,  ye  're  offered  the  cash  in  yer  fisht, 
But  to  opin  the  dures  and  let  three  av  thim  pass, 

An  sure  from   the   crowd   there   they  'd   niver   be 

misshed — 
Yet  yer  only  reply  is  "  The  divil  a  Mass  !  " 

Now,  Bishop,  I  can't  for  the  life  av  me  see, 

Whin  your  Riverence  Hell's  kapers  are  boun  to 

obey, 
Why  you  won't  let  them  out,  when  ye  'd  get  a  good 

fee. 
Ah !  ye  wud  let  thim  out  av  ye  'd  iver  a  kay ! 

Av  yez  hav  an  won't  use  it,  be  Jaybers  I  shwear 
Whin  I  go  there  meself,  I  '11  have  something  to  say  : 

—  'Twill  be  this, — I  'm  contintid,  I  'd  rather  sthay 

here 
Than  associate  wid  yez, — To  Hell  wid  yer  kay ! 


HONEST     MONEY." 


Tune— " Roy's  Wife  o*  Alrleralloch." 

Red  Gold  's  the  chiefest  good  of  life  ; 

Come  sing  its  praises,  every  blackguard 
Whose  ballot  plumped  to  aid  its  strife, 

To  glut  the  fat,  and  starve  the  haggard. 
Then  shout  its  pseans,  every  hind 

Whose  half-paid  toil  yields  Fraud  its  riches ; 
Shiver  and  sing,  as  Winter's  wind 

Makes  goose-flesh  'neath  your  ragged  breeches 

Silver  is  not  honest  money  ; 
Greenbacks  are  not  honest  money. 
Rothschild  says  it ;  Sherman  pays  it. 
Gold  alone  is  honest  money. 

Red  Gold  's  the  proper  stuff  to  pay 

The  note  you  gave  for  Greenbacks  borrowed ; 
And  Labor's  muscle  's  lawful  prey 

Of  curses  Usury  has  farrowed. 
What  if  you  gave  them,  all  the  while, 

Their  interest  at  six  per  centum, 
And  ne'er  with  taxes  did  despoil 

The  liberal  Jews  who  kindly  lent  'em. 

Double  up  their  honest  money  ; 
Pay  them  back  in  honest  money, 


"Hone*t  Money"  351 


"Shent  per  shent"  on  what  they  lent ; 
Give  them  Gold,  the  honest  money. 

D'  ye  mind  how  Pharaoh  got  their  land, 

When  all  the  people  wanted  victual  ? 
Now  Joseph  holds  you  in  his  hand ; 

So  fetch  along  your  deeds,  and  settle. 
Let  go  your  homesteads  ;  let  your  spawn 

By  beggary  keep  their  souls  within  'em, 
Till  their  cockaded  hats  adorn 

The  liveried  pomp  of  those  who  win  'em. 

Scarcer  make  the  honest  money  ; 
Harder  toil  for  honest  money. 
Three  grains  of  wheat  pay  one  you  get, 
If  Gold  alone  is  honest  money. 

The  cheapest  thing  on  Earth  is  Man, 

When  bankrupt  labor  stocks  the  market. 
Cheap  goods  in  vain  your  wife  may  scan, 

Without  a  nickel  in  her  pocket. 
A  five-cent  muslin  she  can't  buy, 

But  borrows  thread  to  mend  her  tatters, 
While  you  on  Shylock's  aid  rely, 

And  lick  the  hands  that  weld  your  fetters. 

He  will  give  you  honest  money — 
Pay  such  wage  in  honest  money, 
That  in  free  soup  is  Labor's  hope, 
Living  under  honest  money. 

Self-government 's  a  funny  farce 

When  one  man's  greed  can  ruin  twenty. 


352  "Honest  Money" 


Who  deals  in  money,  wants  it  scarce ; 

And  who  deals  with  it,  wants  it  plenty. 
What  work  can  coupon-cutters  give, 

Or  how  prosperitjr  restore  us  ? 
Labor  no  otherwise  can  thrive, 

Than  joining  now  in  hearty  chorus : 

Silver  's  always  honest  money  ; 
Greenbacks  shall  be  honest  money  ; 
For  Gold  is  dyed  with  Labor's  blood — 
Never  meant  for  honest  money. 


14  DAY  USE 

RETURN  TO  DESK  FROM  WHICH  BORROWED 

LOAN  DEPT. 

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